Please Excuse My French
by nashie-chan
Summary: AU. Mode, the biggest fashion week of the year, is celebrating its 50th birthday. But when the top models of rival modeling agencies declare war on each other, catwalks and catfights are bound to collide. Ah, well. C'est la vie. -multiple pairings-
1. Tête à tête: Un

**Please Excuse My French**

By Samurai-Nashie

**Disclaimer**: Please. If I owned either Axel or Riku, do you think I would be sitting here by my lonesome writing a fanfic? Yeah right.

**Random Author's Note**: Well, this is the first time I've put the author's note at the beginning of one of my stories. New year, new things, I guess. Um…this story is strange. Which is why it's AU. With multiple pairings – none of them canon. If you want something serious and closer to canon, go check out **Somebody, Somewhere, Someday**. If you want something humorous and closer to canon, go check out **This is Not High School Musical**. And, yes. I know it's shameless plugging.

This is entire story spawned from me paging through a _Vogue_ magazine, waiting to get my hair done at a beauty salon. And from reading AU stories. And really liking them. And I'm blaming all the Zemyx writers out there – I've been made into a Zemyx fangirl.

Enjoy the randomness of first person.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I never wanted to become a model.

Somehow, the idea of starving myself and doing crunches five hundred and seventy thousand times idea just didn't appeal to me. Of course, neither did working at Sonics for the rest of my life. Not that I didn't like Sonics. But the minute one of the girls quit and they came to me with a pair of roller-skates, I figured they had crossed the line.

Of course, I can probably blame most of it on my mother. She wasn't a stage mother, per se, but she adored the limelight. Something about being Ophelia in a high school play. Either way, she liked being the center of attention. I guess I may have gotten my reclusive personality from my father – not that I could confirm that. He had died when I was four, so I don't remember much about him. Mom said I look a lot like him, and showed me old headshots of his from when he was in college. I suppose that's when the idea about me being a model came into her head.

She asked me about it once – and only once – and I turned her down. I had been fourteen at the time, uncompromisingly short and in the beginning of that wonderful phase known as teenage angst. I told her I would rather die a trillion times by drinking honey and then eating a jar of fire ants while getting stabbed with a really dull knife. She had laughed and then grounded me for a month for thinking such dark thoughts.

When I turned sixteen, she told me she had set up an "appointment" for me. Since I had just finished the SATs and ACTs (too easy, in my opinion) and filled out at least twelve different college applications, I assumed that I was meeting a representative from one of those colleges I really wanted to go to. Not even close. Somehow, I had been pulled into meeting a friend of a friend of a friend (of a friend?) of Mom's who worked at a modeling agency called V.Zero. I didn't know it at the time (didn't really care at the time either), but V.Zero was one of the top two modeling agencies in the world.

The _world_.

And that fact when completely over my head.

Long story made short – they signed me, I had to drop out of regular school and got a tutor, and have been traveling the world ever since, posing for magazines, walking down catwalks, chatting with beautiful actresses and models, and pretty much having the world at my feet.

Of course, I hated it.

Then I met _him_.

Not to say that it was love at first sight. I was too pessimistic to even begin to think about entering a relationship, and he was…well, he was himself, and that explains everything. Being in the modeling world, I had heard of him. Most models keep track of their competition. Not that he and I really competed in anything. I was edgy, high-fashion (bleh), and he had that trendy commercial look. But I still knew of him. I had even seen him around before.

And even after I did get to know him, it wasn't Cupid at his best - we had both been caught up in the now infamous Mode Vendetta. It had been the most interesting three weeks of my life – not to say the most annoying, the most headache-creating, the most hectic, and by far, the busiest.

Mode was a fashion orgy, to put it nicely. Every year in April, Paris and Milan threw the biggest fashion party of the season, if not the entire year. It was the most talked about event, the most gossiped about event, and the crown jewel of fashion shows and parties. Designers went crazy, models were ecstatic, and the fashion industry giggled like prepubescent schoolgirls at a Hannah Montana concert. I went along for the ride – I had never gone to Mode, never wanted to go to Mode, and never dreamed about being there in the future.

But this year was different. Mode was celebrating its 50th anniversary. That meant everything was...over the top? Well, as over the top as fashion is allowed to be while still remaining chic and trendy and all those other terms associated with up-to-date cutting edge fashion.

And somehow, between October and February, I ended up becoming part of the Core.

The Core is essentially the top five models of V.Zero. They are the ones who get first billing for all the major fashion shows, photoshoots, awards shows, magazine covers, etc., etc.

When I found out, Kairi teased me about the murderous look I got in my eyes for nearly two weeks afterwards. Since she was already part of the Core, she thought of it as no big deal. In fact, she thought modeling was no big deal in general. She was one of those girls who was naturally petite, and, despite being on the shorter side, was one of V.Zero's top models.

Anyway, Mode's 50th birthday bash was looking to be an…interesting event.

Of course, then the Mode Vendetta had to happen.

When it first began, I had decided that Roxas and Axel were both being stubborn, prideful idiots who really needed to get a life. Then somehow, I got pulled into it. Looking back, I'm still not sure how I managed to end up in the thick of the mess. But I did – and I ended up meeting _him_.

The fact that when we first met he was half-dressed and soaking wet and I was hanging upside down under an awning tied up with a corset is beside the point. (I asked him about it later though. I still haven't got a satisfactory explanation).

The course of true love is never smooth, as they say. Not that I cared about the proverb (or that I was a superbly, disgustingly cheerful optimist – that job fell to Sora). But honestly, it couldn't have been truer. Since we met in the midst of what will probably the most famous modeling feud in the history of modeling feuds, it would have been fair to say that hell was probably a lot friendlier place than Mode that year. Surprisingly, no one killed each other or maimed each other (though I'm pretty sure Axel, at the beginning, was dying to burn Roxas at the stake…)

The strangest thing was that it started so…simply. Luxord took a vote later, and most of us decided that Naminé was mostly at fault for the entire thing, followed closely by Yuffie and Cloud. Not that they started the feud or anything.

But the fact that it began with a decaf split-shot no whip non-fat vanilla latte and a day-old newspaper should have already forewarned us that the coming month was not going to be pleasant.

xoxoxoxoxo


	2. Savoir Faire

**Please Excuse My French**

By Samurai-Nashie

**Disclamer**: Hmmm? Oh, right. Um…I don't own the French language. Or the fashion industry. Or French people in the fashion industry. Let's see…I also don't own a French bulldog – they're strange looking. I don't own…French fries, the Statue of Liberty, or the Louvre.

And I don't own _Kingdom Hearts_ either. But as a fangirl, I claim exclusive rights to the pairings in this story…wait, I'm not entitled to those either? Aw, fishsticks…(goes to eat a brownie)

xoxoxoxoxo

At seven o'clock, Tuesday morning, the airport had yet to hit its peak rush hour. Sure, there was the usual hustle and bustle that was the staple of all international airports, but since the work week had already begun and it was still a little too early in the morning for the late morning rush, most of those who were waiting around for flights were either businessmen, families returning from very short vacations, or the random student or two. Security was still as tight as ever, even with the sparse crowds, but at least it didn't take an hour to pass through the security checkpoint, as it may have taken near the end of the week.

Amongst the travelers sitting in the waiting areas for international flights was a group of four young people. To any unobserving eye, it may have looked like the four youths were students, perhaps on their way to travel abroad together, to some foreign, exotic country. However, there were a few subtle hints that may have clued in the observer that these were not students. It may have been the way the only girl in the group was tilting her head a bit too low in the book she was reading. Or it could have been the way that the brown-haired boy sitting next to her was nonchalantly scrolling through his BlackBerry(1), his legs sprawled over the arm of the chair, or how the shorter young man leaning against the window seemed a little too…uneasy by the surrounding crowds.

Or it could have been that all four of them were wearing sunglasses that were probably more expensive than their plane tickets.

The girl slowly lowered her aviator sunglasses to peek over their edge, violet-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Hey…aren't you gonna sit down?"

"No."

The boy holding the BlackBerry laughed under his breath. "Oh, c'mon. What happens if the window breaks and you go falling out of it? How in the world would we explain that to Leon?"

"The same way you explained to him why we missed our flight – in very small words," the fourth member of the group said, sitting up straighter in his chair and wincing at his cramped muscles. Rubbing his shoulder, he looked towards the only standing member of their group. "He's actually going to kill us when we get there, isn't he?"

"Probably."

The boy holding the BlackBerry abruptly flipped it shut, and spun in his chair, swinging his legs in front of him. A wide grin spread across his face. "Man, oh, man – I can't wait to get there! I love Mode!" The girl rolled her eyes, and the standing young man stifled a groan. It was way too early in the morning to be that cheerful. Then again, Sora was almost perpetually cheerful, from the time he woke up to the moment he fell face first into whatever pillow he could find lying around (and even if he couldn't).

The other young man, sitting on the other side of the girl, leaned over, and raised a pale eyebrow at his friend. "Don't you mean that you love all the free stuff that they give to you?" Sora grinned. "Oh, c'mon. Exactly how much merchandise did you swipe last year?"

Before Sora could answer, the reason for their missed flight came sauntering up to the group, holding some sort of iced espresso concoction that probably had a zillion and two calories in it, fifteen billion grams of fat, and evil sugar to the hundredth degree. Not that the person holding said drink didn't need a little extra weight – in fact, he was almost too slender, more noticeably so due to his height. Considering the drink was probably banned within fifteen miles of any given modeling agency, the young man obviously could care less about the model rule book.

"That's it," the girl griped, glaring at the new arrival as he sat next to the standing boy. "I am officially knocking you senseless in a dark alley and stealing your metabolism."

"Don't be jealous, Kairi," the young man grinned. Unlike the others, he didn't wear a pair of sunglasses – instead, a pair of custom-made black-rimmed eyeglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. "You should be happy that you have someone like me around to make you re-evaluate yourself." To annoy her, he took a sip of his drink and then winked at her.

"C'mon, Kairi, you know Axel can't help it!" Sora cut in with a bright smile. "Just because he's no bigger than that straw –"

"If you want to live to see nineteen, you won't finish that sentence," growled the redhead, already catching where the joke was going before Sora could finish it.

The pale-haired youth sitting next to Kairi snorted.

Sora beamed, grinning at the look Axel shot Riku's way. "Aw, you'd never kill me. You love me way too much!" He slid out of his chair, and scooted across the carpeted floor to sit next to Axel. "Share?" Axel rolled his eyes, and obediently handed the drink over. Sora let out a whoop of thanks before beginning to drink the blended coffee. In return, Axel snatched Sora's BlackBerry and began to page through it, until he found what he was looking for – on-line Tetris – and launched himself into the game.

Once again, the five fell silent, as Kairi turned back to her book, Axel continued to be engrossed with the addictive Tetris game, Sora kept drinking Axel's coffee, and Riku and Zexion resumed steadily ignoring them all. Every so often, though, a person walking by would slow down in their hurried gait to glance at them, shake their head, and continue walking, only to throw a look back over their shoulder a few seconds later. Every time someone did this, Sora would hide a grin and innocently drink more of the iced coffee.

After the fourth person did this, and actually looked tempted to come back for an even closer third look, Kairi lowered her book, and sighed, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Hey, Axel. Remember this thing called anonymity?"

"Nope. Can't say I do." Axel paused the game and looked up into Kairi's annoyed face, before he grinned at her. "What? Can't be anything I said, princess. Because your definition of anonymity, if I recall, was for me to dye my hair. Which I don't do, under any circumstances."

Kairi only rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Sora handed Axel's (now half-empty) drink back to him, and reclaimed his BlackBerry in one swift movement. "Yeah, but if someone comes up to us and asks if we're the ones on the cover of that magazine, you're gonna have to be the one to take a picture with them." He gave Axel a playful punch to the shoulder. "And we know how much you _love_ your doting fans."

"Hey, I've made amends since that last incident…"

"That last incident," interrupted Zexion with a sigh, "almost got you and me kicked out of the state of California."

"Eh…that wasn't entirely my fault…"

"You started the fire. You destroyed the lawn mower. You kidnapped the CEO's daughter–"

"She came _willingly_!"

By now, Sora and Kairi were struggling to hide their laughter as Zexion continued the list of things that Axel did five weeks back at the now infamous fashion luncheon. Axel protested and argued against nearly every point Zexion made, as he usually did when confronted with the number of…accidents he managed to pull himself into. This time, Zexion had been along for the ride, and had ended up getting in as much trouble as Axel did with Leon by the time the event had ended.

Riku crossed his arms. "Once again, I'm so glad I didn't have to go to that thing. Though, from the number of pictures they took, it was almost like I had a front row seat."

"Shut up, Riku."

Kairi abruptly stood up, book still in hand as she placed her hands on her hips, and gave all four of the young men a disapproving look. "Boys, must we argue?" Then she smiled. "I'm going to go over to the store and buy a magazine. Anyone want to come with?"

"Think I'll pass."

"Not really, no."

"This is the third time you've asked, Kairi…"

"Sure, I'll do it!" Sora leapt to his feet, brushing off the non-existent dirt on his costly jeans, stuffing his BlackBerry into his pocket. "Can't let a lady go unaccompanied, especially a beautiful one like yourself. Watch our stuff, guys." He proffered his arm to Kairi, who laughed at his antics, and allowed him to accompany her towards the gift shop.

"He is so whipped," snorted Axel. He made a grab for his drink, and then frowned. "Hey…hey! He drank half of my mocha! That lousy, little…" He jumped to his feet. "I can't believe him." Ignoring Riku's laugh and Zexion's disapproving shake of the head, he stormed after the couple.

Axel passed a few more of those curious, déjà vu stares as he hurried after the retreating duo, still clasping his half-finished coffee in his hand. Sora and Kairi had made a beeline towards the nearest gift shop, with Sora easily being distracted by the chocolate bars in front of the register while Kairi wandered back towards the wall of magazines.

The redhead sneaked up behind the brunette (who looked to be in the middle of dilemma trying to decide which chocolate bar would be the most acceptable to eat), and tapped him on the shoulder. Sora spun around, and grinned up at Axel's glowering look. "Hey, you should have just said you wanted to come." He pointed to the row of chocolate bars in front of him. "So, based on looks along, which of these has the least amount of grams of fat?"

Axel crossed his arms, and looked towards the ceiling, perhaps looking for a sign from a heaven to answer the question. "Sora. You just drank half of my mocha – which, by the way, you are going to owe me. And now you want a chocolate bar? You're going to get fat, and Leon's gonna kill you."

Sora made a face. "One chocolate bar won't kill me."

"Oh, really," asked Axel with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe we should call Cloud and ask _him_." The reference had its intended affect. Sora furrowed his brows and sadly stepped away from the chocolate bars. Axel threw his arm around the younger boy's shoulders, and they began to walk back towards Kairi, who was now flipping through a teen magazine. "Hey, when we get to Paris, you can pig out on all those sugar-free, low-fat, absolutely disgusting granola bars he finds."

"You would think he's our nutritionist, the way he acts sometimes…" muttered Sora. But his pouting mood didn't last long. The minute Kairi turned around, showing them an outfit she thought was "insanely adorable", a full-blown smile had appeared on the brunette's face. "Hey, Kairi…you're going on a shopping spree the minute we get to Paris?"

Kairi giggled. "Maybe." She waved her finger at Axel. "Someone promised me a trip to the Champ-Élysées (2)."

Axel groaned. "You actually remember that?"

"You need to keep track of the promises you make when you're drunk, Axel."

Sora turned to the taller youth. "Hey…can I go too?"

Heaven, Axel decided blandly, was not a place on earth.

xoxoxoxo

On the other side of the Atlantic, Naminé was thinking along the same lines.

To say that the blonde young woman was having a bad afternoon would have been an understatement. Since the fashion world was wrapped up in last-minute arrangements for Mode, there was a certain "calm before the storm" aspect settling over the Parisian fashion community. The past few days had been relatively boring – making a few guest stops on a television show or two, visiting a few of the designers who wanted her to wear some of their outfits in the coming few days, going out to lunch with a few close friends – nothing that required much effort on her part.

Naminé appreciated the peace and quiet – after all, in just five days, Mode would begin, and all of her privacy would be thrown out the window. The other models had been looking forward to the biggest fashion week of the year – Naminé, having already went last year and been awed out of her senses, was a lit bit more skeptical. It would be fun no doubt – soon after last year's Mode, she had joined the infamous Hierarchy, Enix's core group of models that represented them in pretty much everything.

Everything had been going smoothly the past few days, actually. Naminé's jitters had been calmed by a phone call from her favorite Uncle Cid, and Larxene, who had surprised her with a visit to the hotel early yesterday morning.

Then, the agency called.

Naminé promised that next time she saw Luxord, she would hit him. With a fish. Preferably one that had been dead for a week. It wasn't fair, really, in her opinion. He had backed out of Mode at the last minute, to take care of some problems back home. Larxene, too curious to let dead dogs lie, went snooping and found out that the British Hierarchy member was in some sort of financial trouble with an old friend back home that could turn ugly if brought out into the public.

"So, he just bailed?" Naminé had asked, after Larxene had told her over breakfast earlier that day. Larxene had nodded.

"Marly told me he got himself into a real mess this time," the other blonde had said with a wave of her hand. "Something about a guy named Jack. And Enix can't afford to have something like…well, you know how modeling agencies are. But, now, you guys are one short for Mode."

_It wouldn't have been a problem_, Naminé thought as she waited for an elevator, _if we didn't have that silly rivalry with V.Zero_. She watched as the numbers lit up overhead, and rocked back and forth on her feet. _But with Luxord gone, and with that stupid gap…I can't believe they're trying to get someone here last minute…_

Ansem had told her his idea when he called to tell her about Luxord. Enix had somehow managed to borrow a model from one of her sister companies overseas, one who they felt capable of being able to deal with the craziness that was known as Mode. Xemnas hadn't said much about the model, except that he was young (her age, maybe?), and was fresh-faced, newly arrived at the sister agency in February. Naminé didn't know if she should actually be pleased with Ansem's idea or frustrated with it.

After all, she was the one stuck teaching him the ropes.

The revolving doors moved again and Naminé looked up – more bellhops again. He still wasn't here. It was almost one, and she had been waiting in the lobby for nearly forty-five minutes past the time the meeting at been arranged. Sure, she had been preoccupied with trying to remember what in the world the model's name was who she was supposed to be meeting earlier, but she was positive that she hadn't missed him.

She got up from her chair near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand lobby, willing her muscles to stretch. Mode definitely kept their models living plush during their extended stay in Paris. She hadn't asked Ansem how much the rooms were – the amount of money spent in this business made her ill sometimes. Rather, she smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her tangerine-colored sundress, and began to scan the lobby _again_.

"Blonde…that's really all you could give, Ansem?" she whispered dismally. She strode further away from the windows, past the help desk, and into the lavishly decorated interior. A handful of models, agents, and photographers – thank God security kept the paparazzi at bay – lingered in the lobby, some too preoccupied with their face-to-face or electronic conversations to notice her.

"Woah! Is that her? Nilla!?"

Naminé froze. Only _one_ person in the world called her by that annoying nickname.

She spun on her heel, vaguely aware that some of the others in the lobby had also turned at the call. Standing over by the front desk was a lithe young man in a black long-sleeved dress shirt, and dark-wash jeans. A somewhat beaten duffel bag swung loosely from his shoulder as he waved at her from nearly halfway across the room, shouting the nickname again.

A wide grin, though somewhat abashed by the attention that the young man was bringing to them, spread across Naminé's face. "Dem!"

Demyx strode across the room, one hand on his hip while the other gestured wildly at her. "Long time no see!"

"Likewise!" she replied, wrapping him in a hug. Some models she knew insisted on getting kissed on both cheeks, but Demyx always hugged her whenever she saw her, no matter who was around, or what she was wearing (sometimes, designers scolded them, afraid of possible wrinkles that never actually did show up on the outfits). She pulled him away at arm's length, looking him up and down. "When did you get fly in? And what in the world did you do to your hair?"

"Caught a red-eye flight – Ansem said something about needing me here earlier than usual," Demyx said with a grin. He then ran his hand through his short-shorn locks. "And this was partly Xigbar's fault. He thought it would be cool to try to shave my head a week before Mode started." He winked. "I woke up before he could do major damage. But, I don't know – I actually like the mohawkishness that turned out. They can't say I'm purely 'commercial' now."

Naminé laughed. "Well, it's great to see you here so early. I wasn't expecting you until Friday!" She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked forward slightly. "So, Dem, exactly where is Xigbar? Is there some sort of prank I should know about?" Demyx rolled his eyes.

"I left him in Sydney."

"Again?"

"No, last time I left him in Rio." Demyx frowned, and then scratched the back of his head, looking very much like a kid troubled by an algebra problem. "No…wait…that was that time before that…no, last time I left him in Barcelona." His eyes lit up suddenly, and he looped his arm through hers, leading them back towards the upholstered couches and chairs that littered the hotel's atrium. "Did I ever tell you what happened there? You have to hear the story!"

Naminé allowed herself to be playfully dragged along towards the chairs near the huge fireplace in the lobby. After all, Demyx was one of her favorite people in the world, next to Larxene and Uncle Cid. He was always full of energy (almost alarmingly so) and always had some sort of story to tell her about his recent trips. Unlike the other four models in the Hierarchy, Demyx was the only who simply could not be contained in one city. One week, he might be in Tokyo, a few days later, London, and a week later he might have been riding in a jeep through Cairo's deserts.

His sheer vivacity gained him his own "personal aide" – not that Xigbar agreed to the title. After spending one week with the blonde, he had told Naminé that "personal aide" was a professional title for "baby-sitter". He had been fifth in the number of assistants assigned to Demyx, and the only who had somehow managed to keep up.

It probably didn't help that Xigbar could be as sporadic as Demyx himself.

"So, Xigbar had to be bail me out of contest again – no, Naminé, I swear I had no idea how I got reentered – and then we still had to go on that pointless go-see. No, Naminé, I was not wearing the flamenco dress. But Xigbar had this great idea that if we just paid some kid to take the flamenco dress back – no, we didn't steal it – we could get back to the go-see on time, and be completely innocent of that whole kitchen disaster!"

Naminé stared.

"That's an entirely true story – scout's honor." He leaned forward in his chair. "I have the pictures to prove it." Then, just as suddenly as he began the story, he waved his hand, dismissing it. "I'll show them to you later. But now – you have to tell me why you were standing in the lobby looking completely and totally lost, and dare I say, irritated."

"Um…" Naminé paused. Next to Demyx, she would never have enough words to say. "You heard about Luxord, right?" At Demyx's nod, she continued. "Well, Ansem had to borrow another model from one of the sister agencies to take his place. He's supposed to be here…well…forty-five minutes ago."

"What's his name?"

"He didn't tell me. Told me he was young, blonde, and handsome." She smiled slightly. "Which narrows it down to half of this lobby at the moment, including you." Demyx's goofy smile only made her giggle. "Someone's the picture of modesty."

"Hey, you said it, not me." He then jumped to his feet (Naminé had known that they would be sitting down for less than five minutes, considering _who_ she was dealing with), and stretched before grabbing his duffel bag off the carpet. "Well, it looks like we need to go find the newest temporary member of the Hierarchy. Though…why didn't Ansem just pick someone already in Enix? It would have been cheaper…"

Naminé shrugged gracefully and also stood, smoothing out the skirt of her dress as she gazed around the lobby. "Well, you know Ansem. Always experimenting with things that are bound to backfire…"

The taller blonde laughed. "Yeah, yeah. But hey, before we go look for yet another blonde Hierarchy member, I need to go check on my luggage in my room. Come with?" Naminé smiled her response, and the two began to head towards the elevator, passing three dark-haired models chatting in Italian, a hooded young man half-sleeping in a chair, and a man arguing loudly with his cellphone (or with someone on his cellphone – it was hard to tell by the way he was glaring at the poor communication device). "Are the others here yet?"

"Larxene said Marluxia was going to be a day late – a bad storm brewed up last minute in São Paolo and they had to cancel some flights." Naminé pressed the up button on the elevator, and patiently waited for the light for their floor to glow. "Tifa got here three days ago, but I haven't seen her yet. We're supposed to go out to lunch tomorrow."

"I'm inviting myself," Demyx said, crossing his arms. He then hesitated, "Larxene…she's coming?" Naminé hid a giggle at the nervous tone that suddenly rose in the taller youth's voice. He and Larxene…did not get along very well. She had never gotten the full story about what happened when they first met – but it had something to do with water and Larxene throwing a knife at Demyx's head…

Instead of chiding her friend about, Naminé simply shook her head. "No – she'll be with Marluxia, remember? She wants her first Parisian date with him."

Demyx let out a sigh of relief.

The elevator chimed its arrival, and the doors slid open, admitting its two passengers. Naminé liked these elevators – they didn't give off the claustrophobia of other resorts she had been in, though she still disliked the overhead mirror.

The doors were about to close when someone shouted – "Wait up!" – and at the last second, a slim figure darted in, just barely swinging his backpack in before the elevator closed on it. Naminé frowned. She recognized the sweatshirt – the boy who had been sleeping in the lobby had been wearing one. She guessed he might have been the little brother of one of the models at the hotel – some often brought family to watch the glitz and glamour of Mode's first week.

"Hey, Nilla…" Demyx whispered, leaning over. "I got you one of those stuffed chocobos you like. A gold one."

"Really!" the small blonde girl enthused, her eyes growing wide. Then, more subdued, "You didn't have to do that. Thank you."

"That's what friends are for. Besides, you told me they were really rare, and I saw one in Barcelona." He winked at her as the elevator doors opened to his floor. "I would have packed it on my carry-on, but Xigbar had _other_ ideas." He waved his cellphone at her. "He'll probably be calling me soon, yelling my ear off…" The couple stepped off of the elevator and began to head down the long, spacious hallway to Demyx's suite.

"Excuse me?"

Naminé blinked, about to turn the corner of the corridor. The quiet voice even stopped Demyx midrant, and he spun around as well. They both glanced back behind them and saw the young man leaning out of the elevator, keeping the doors open with his body weight. Dark eyes studied them carefully. "Yes?" asked Naminé, head tilted in curiosity.

"You dropped this." And without waiting for them to return, he tossed a tiny, glittering items towards her. Naminé fumbled to catch it, and saw that it was one of her pearl-drop earrings. _When did I drop this…I wouldn't have even noticed!_

"Thank you!" she began to call out, but the young man had already ducked back into the elevator, and was gone before she could finish.

"Strange boy," murmured Demyx thoughtfully.

"And you're not?"

"Well…yeah, but…" Demyx trailed off with a sudden overly bright smile on his face. "Didn't you say the kid you were looking for was blonde, young, and handsome?"

Naminé stared at him, a puzzled frown appearing on her face. "Yes?"

"Nilla, that kid was blonde, young, and…well, I'll leave it up to you to think whether he was handsome." The cheerful blonde winked at her, and Naminé flushed, brushing a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear. It took a moment for her to realize what Demyx had just said.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "You think that he…?"

"Well, he was sleeping in the lobby, so it's no wonder that you didn't recognize him…"

"Demyx!" It was half-said in exasperation – well, as exasperated as Naminé could get with Demyx, which is to say, not very much – and the slender girl hurried back to the elevators, with the older blonde's wrist in a vice-like grip. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

xoxoxoxo

He was tired.

No, he was past being tired. He was exhausted, fatigued, drained, or any other synonym he could think of and the stupid jet leg made sure that he would not just be exhausted, but completely confused as well. He hated flying. He hated airplanes, and he especially hated being stuck in one of those thousand-ton, should-be-impossible-to-stay-in-the-air monstrosities for seventeen hours. Twelve hours on one sitting, in a cramped space, thousands of feet above the ground, above the water…sitting next to someone who was constantly assuring him that no, they would not crash and that yes, the pilots had been trained to deal with turbulence, and no, they were not running into air pockets on purpose.

Neurotic? Maybe just a little bit. But he had good reason to be. It was his first time on a plane, his first time leaving the country. All because Ansem, some guy from a modeling agency he had never heard of (but was in some way and form related to the modeling agency he worked for), had called with some desperate request…and Vexen chose him (possible forms of castration were forming in his head as they flew over Russia on what to do with the agency manager when he got back), out of all the models in the agency, to fly halfway across the world for some fashion party he didn't want to go to.

And Paris? Not too remarkable, from what his sleep-deprived brain managed to comprehend. And was he a day behind or a day ahead…? He didn't even bother to ask Aerith once they got off the plane – he was so grateful to step onto solid ground, and so tired (he had barely kept his eyes open on the taxi ride to the hotel), that he never bothered to ask. All he knew was that it was early afternoon (yesterday? Tomorrow? Same day?) and he wanted to sleep.

Which was precisely what he did when he came into the hotel lobby.

Aerith had told him that she had to run and make a few business calls (or something along those lines…) and that he was supposed to meet a girl named Ramen Nay (he had a feeling that that _wasn't_ the name). The brunette had checked him in, gave him a hug and a promise of a quick return, and vanished out the door, leaving him standing in the middle of the lobby with only his shoulder pack and a room key. The bellhops, he had been told, had taken care of his luggage.

By this point in time, he was too tired to even think about finding his room, so he dragged himself into the lobby, found himself a big, chair that smelled like Febreeze, and promptly collapsed in it, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes, and then the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He didn't care if he was supposed to look like a model – he was going to sleep, and that was the end of the story.

Too bad a certain loud blonde male model didn't get the note.

He had been on the verge of sleeping and dreaming, when a loud voice that was far too close suddenly started shouting. "Woah! Is that her?! Nilla!"

_Are you serious?_ He thought, as one eye very, very slowly opened. He saw a blonde young man – _with a…what kind of strange hairdo is that _– waving wildly at some girl on the opposite side of the lobby. Another eye opened. Pretty girl. Blonde, too. Orange dress. Looking slightly embarrassed. _Well, she should be if he's going to scream that loud…for god's sake, must have the maturity of a five-year-old…_

Either way, he had been rudely awakened from his sleep, and he grumpily sat up in his chair. Looking around, he saw some people shooting him odd looks as he unfolded himself from where he had stuffed his body into the armchair. _Must be because I'm not wearing any of their stupid clothing…or my hat…it might be the hat…_

Still, he owed it to Aerith to actually drag himself to his room, and attempt to sort out the mess in his luggage bags. Then, maybe, he could actually sleep on a real bed…with pillows…and no blonde male models screaming at the top of their lungs in a friggin' hotel lobby…

The blonde stumbled to his feet, suppressing the yawn that was rising steadily in his throat, and unenthusiastically pulled his shoulder bag behind him on the carpet as he blearily looked for the elevator. More people continued to stare, but he ignored them all, his cap pulled low over his eyes and his hood still up, and searched for the elevator. Fourth floor?

He walked past the front desk and towards the east wing of the lobby. There. Four elevators. Very nice. Still half-heartedly dragging his shoulder bag, he trudged over to the elevators and saw one of the doors starting to close already.

_I don't think so… _"Wait up!" he called, managing to spare enough energy to dart into the doors just before they closed behind him, ducking his head at the last minute to make sure his bag made it into the elevator in one piece as well.

"I got you one of those stuffed chocobos you like so much!" a voice said from behind him, and it took his sleep-deprived brain all of three seconds to recognize it. It was the same guy from before, the one who had called the girl "Nilla". He wasn't actually getting on the elevator too…?

"Really?" the girl asked, a small smile slipping onto her face. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you."

"That's what friends are for."

Gag.

The pointless conversation continued two more floors before they finally arrived on the third floor, and the two blondes began to walk out. He let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief, until something sparkly caught his eye on the floor. _Oh, for the love of…_He grabbed the item – a tiny, expensive-looking pearl earrings – and quickly half-leaned out the elevator, calling out for the two blondes that were about disappear around the corner.

Thankfully, they weren't too obliviously involved in their conversation, both turning their heads back towards them.

A simple explanation this time – "you dropped this" – and then a quick toss of the piece of jewelry. The girl nearly dropped it as the shiny earring fell into her hands, and only in that moment of quick exasperation did he notice that the blonde guy was staring at him with something akin to curiosity. A little to curious, in his own opinion.

He managed a glare that probably only lowered the corridor a dozen degrees instead of its usual forty, and he ducked back inside the elevator. When he met people like that, he was very tempted to dye his hair brown.

Five minutes, and one annoyed bellhop later, he collapsed on the bed in his room.

Approximately, seven seconds after that, someone began to knock loudly on his door.

"No, no, no, _no_," came the muffled response as a blonde head wearily came up from a pillow. "Go away…" It seemed, however, that whoever was at the door was not intent on leaving any time soon, and the knocking continued, even more persistently.

_Why didn't I put the stupid 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the stupid door…?_

_Answer – you're too tired to make the stupid French._

_Oh, right…_

Why he actually got up from the bed and managed to drag himself to the door, he never knew. But after fiddling with the lock – the one thing he had remembered – he slowly opened the door…and cursed very loudly in his mind.

Definitely dyeing his hair brown.

xoxoxoxo

The plane departed from New York three hours after they were supposed to have left.

Riku was betting that the moment they landed in Paris, Leon was going to kill every single last one of them.

_All thanks to the fact that Axel just _had _to argue with that security guard…_

He looked out the window, even though he already knew what he was going to see. Water. Miles and miles of Atlantic Ocean. Sora had teased Kairi once when they had crossed the Atlantic before, just the three of them, that he could have sworn he saw the Titanic. Kairi hadn't believed him, but sheer curiosity had made her look over her boyfriend's shoulder and out the window. Riku knew that Sora was only worried about the redhead girl – she hated flying (the reason why they never flew in private jets was because Kairi was terrified of their compact size), so he lifted her spirits with jokes and stories and would always let her fall asleep on his shoulder.

They sat in back of him this time, so he was still able to glance over his shoulder to make sure they were okay. An hour into the flight, they had both fallen asleep, and presented the picture of a perfect couple – Kairi, with her head resting on Sora's shoulder, and Sora's head resting against Kairi's.

Axel, of course, had taken a picture.

Riku looked across the aisle at the redhead – the reason why they were going to be arriving late in Paris. Axel would not sleep on planes. He would find _someone_ interesting to talk to until the plane ride was over, and end of walking off the plane with a new friend. This time, though, first class was all but deserted except for the five of them. A businessman and an elderly lady were the only other occupants, and the businessman had made it very clear that he was not to be spoken to. And the elderly lady had fallen asleep before they even took off.

So Axel, being Axel, had muttered to himself, "Oh, screw it", and settled into watching movies on his portable DVD player.

Zexion probably would have supplied Axel with enough amusement to keep him occupied for a good three hours, but the gray-haired young man had pulled out his iPod and a book – _Les Miserablés_(3), again – and had fallen into silence.

Riku himself had decided against falling asleep. Somehow, a little corner of his mind that Sora had cheerfully dubbed the "big brother" part refused to fall asleep when his other friends had already done so. It made sense, Sora's reasoning, if he had only been talking about him and Kairi. But Zexion and Axel were both older than him.

To occupy his time, Riku began to write.

Axel teased him about sometimes, calling him an emo-poet. Riku didn't exactly see it that way (and dumping his drink over the redhead's head had proven his point). He wrote stories, some short, some long. Essays, short stories, brief snippets of some novel he created in his mind…he just liked to write. Sometimes, he let Kairi and Sora read some of it. They both enthused over it, but Riku wanted a real critic, he would ask Zexion what he would thought.

If there was one thing about Zexion that Riku really liked, it was his honesty. He had a way of looking at things that wasn't typical, and even though he would take his sweet time in actually getting into conversation, he often had very useful tips and advice.

_He and Kairi ought to have their own talk show…_thought Riku as he looked at his laptop. He let his mind run rampant, especially when they had so many hours to waste (they were losing five hours as it was, with the time change). _Except Kairi always insists that she's right and Zexion will just glare at you, and make you change your mind if you thought you were right._

Sighing, Riku pulled up a game of Solitaire. Though he was ninety percent sure that the computer cheated on half of the games he played, it was still addicting. He managed to win six of the last ten games, which wasn't bad. Ten out of ten would have been better, but Riku left that sort of skill up to Zexion.

A snore sounded from behind him, and a fond smile sneaked onto Riku's face. _I can't believe Kairi can managed to sleep with Sora imitating a dying chainsaw next her…_

He wiped a whitish strand of hair from out his turquoise eyes, and frowned. _No move._

"The nine of diamonds on the ten of clubs."

Riku looked up and saw Zexion standing over him, casually adjusting his black collared-shirt. "Say what?"

"You passed it. Put the nine of diamonds on the ten of clubs, and then you can put the ten of spades there." He pointed, and then settled into the empty seat next to Riku. "I thought you were better at it than this." Riku chuckled, and followed Zexion's move, and found that it actually freed up two more cards than he had thought.

"Nice move."

"I know," Zexion murmured, looking towards Axel. The redhead's eyes were closed, though the DVD player was still playing. Riku glanced over and assumed that their friend had also fallen asleep, though he would vehemently say he didn't when he woke up earlier. "At least he didn't fall asleep with his contacts in this time."

Riku shook his head. "I still have pictures from that." He then raised an eyebrow. "Out of curiosity, Zexion – why'd you take the empty seat?" Gray-blue eyes met his own teal, and then the older youth's brows furrowed in a silent question. "No, I don't have a problem with it. But it's not like you to come and start a conversation."

"No…it's not," came the quiet reply. After a few more moments of silence, in which Riku continued to play Solitaire, Zexion finally said, "Mode…it's a mess, isn't it?"

"Understatement. It's like Marie Antoinette planned the whole thing." Riku raised an eyebrow, though he didn't dare glance at his friend. "You'll probably hate it. I know I do. Kairi and Sora like it though, and Axel just likes being able to go to Paris and act however he wants without the threat of getting kicked out." He minimized the Solitare screen and then half-turned to face Zexion. "You're not nervous, are you?"

Zexion stared back at him. "Do I have reason to be?"

"Well, it depends. There are some crazy people there." He tried to hide and wince and failed. "And Leon is going to be there."

"Cloud will keep him in line," said the gray-haired man with a shrug, leaning back into the dark blue seat as the plane hit an air pocket. Kairi murmured in her sleep behind them, but quieted back down soon after as the plane quickly settled itself. "And if he can't, Yuffie will."

Riku groaned, knowing exactly what Yuffie's idea of keeping people in line amounted to. Last time she had kept Cloud in line, there had been a police warrant, sticky tape, and a very confused, spray-painted rooster involved. Riku thought that Axel had a picture of that one too…Cloud's irritated slash confused slash angry face had been _priceless_.

"What are you working on?" Zexion suddenly asked, peering over at the laptop. "Free verse again?"

"Not this time," Riku said with a sigh, pulling up the document. "It's a new idea I'm working on…I'm not really sure where it's headed, but hopefully, it'll turn out somewhat decently." Zexion said nothing but frowned, chin in his hand in a thoughtful expression.

"Editorial?"

"Maybe. Might work if I decided to go back." Zexion nodded, already aware of where Riku would have gone back to. They had both given up full scholarships to prestigious colleges for modeling careers (Zexion a bit more reluctantly than Riku), and they both wanted to go back one day, hopefully one day soon. "But until then, it's scrap."

"Keep working on it," advised the gray-eyed young man. A moment of silence, and then, "You still have chess on there?"

Riku groaned.

xoxoxoxo

Naminé knew she was staring, and she couldn't help it. She wasn't the type of girl to giggle and swoon over young men her age, or chatter incessantly about possible future husbands. As a model and a secret artist, she appreciated beauty where she saw it.

Which was probably why she turned a light shade of pink when he opened the door.

He wasn't staggeringly tall, perhaps only a few inches taller than her, and definitely shorter than Demyx, though with the same lithe build of a swimmer. His skin was lightly tanned, spent from days roaming outside, not in a nearest salon. His spiky golden-blonde hair was too close to the color of honey to be faked, and his darkly-lashed eyes, while clouded with fatigue, were possible the brightest and most intense shade of cerulean blue she had ever seen.

And those eyes were currently glaring at her.

_Ansem, you said handsome_, she mentally fumed, _not gorgeous_. Aloud, she said, "Hello! I'm sorry to bother you, but I think you're the person I was supposed to meet."

"Huh," came the mumbled reply as the young man leaned more against the doorpost, looking from her to Demyx and then back again. "Really? You're…uh…Ramen Nay…?"

Demyx snickered, and Naminé resisted the urge to pinch him. "It's Naminé. Ansem said I was supposed to meet you in the lobby…I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

"Well, I'm not dressed in model material," the young man said with a disgruntled shrug. "And I was tired…still am, actually." He glanced back over his shoulder, probably at the bed with something akin to longing. "I was about to go to sleep actually…it was a long plane ride."

Demyx looked like he was about to say something, but Naminé beat him to the punch. "Of course! I'm sorry – "

"Stop apologizing," the young man suddenly demanded, and the stern command was softened by the miniscule smile that somehow found its way to his face. He finger-combed his hair as he yawned. "You didn't do anything wrong. But you think we could do this later? It's almost ten o' clock at night where I came from."

"Lucky you," grinned Demyx. "Jet lag. That'll last for about a day. My advice – sleep according to what the clock on the bed says as much as possible, instead of what your internal clock says. And whatever you do – don't think about the time difference." He winked. "Keeps you from going stark raving mad."

The boy blinked. "Uh…thanks…"

Naminé leaned forward, and quietly said, "If you need me, I'm on the third floor. Suite 313. I'll come back later in the afternoon, okay? Oh! I almost forgot! This is Demyx! He's in Enix too!" The taller blonde laughed at the flustered introduction, and shook the shorter young man's hand.

"Nice to meet you…uh…" He trailed off, and then cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Bob?"

A blink of bright blue eyes, and then, a tired laugh. "No, no. It's Roxas. My name is Roxas."

"Well, nice to meet you, Roxas," both Naminé and Demyx said at the same time. They both shared looks, and smiles. Roxas looked slightly flustered by that, and since he still looked half-asleep, Naminé realized that he must think they were the craziest people in the world. Strange, since considering she was possibly the most normal of the Hierarchy.

"We're gonna go and let you get some sleep, okay?" Demyx cut in suddenly, throwing an arm around Naminé's shoulder and leading her backwards away from the door. "We'll catch you around when you've recovered! See you around, Roxy!"

He led the blonde girl away from the door, but she could still hear Roxas' confused "Roxy? What in the world is he _on_?" before the door shut behind them. She turned a frown towards her friend, which he responded to with a rub on the head, ruffling her pale blonde hair.

"C'mon, Nilla. You still have to get your present, and I have to get your thoughts on your future husband."

Naminé flushed. "He's not my–!"

He cut her off with a wave of his free arm. "Talk later, tease now. This is going to be a long two weeks, Nilla. Might as well enjoy them." He laughed as she spluttered in frustration, and the two disappeared around the corner to the elevators.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note** (02 Mar 07): Well, I guess the author's note at the beginning of the chapter didn't work. So here it is, at the end. Old habits die hard I guess.

This story is going to be such a guilty pleasure for me. Probably because two of the scenes I have in mind for this story are hopelessly fangirlish, and seeing any of the Organization in Armani is enough to prompt a humble writer myself to write…something like this. I realized that this is going to be a long story – not in chapters, but chapter length. Oi vay.

As for the universe this takes place in – well, it's obviously our Earth. Paris and New York give that away. But the biggest fashion week is not Mode (which, I found out while writing this chapter, is the name of the magazine in _Ugly Betty_, my television muse for this story). And we have the biggest models in the world – and most of them are male. Ah, well. My story, my dream.

Next chapter is…strange. (The Ansem in charge of Enix is Ansem the Wise – Xemnas will come in later, don't worry). Can't wait for that.

Chapter References:

1.) BlackBerry – a nifty handheld device that allows the user to call people, email them, text message them, and also has access to other PDA and internet features. They look cool.

2.) Champ-Élysées – One of the major tourist attractions of Paris, and a major shopping avenue.

3.) _Les Miserablés_ – A 19th century novel written by Victor Hugo, describing the journey of one man, Jean Valjean, over twenty years, as he seeks to redeem himself. I highly recommend this book – it's a tough read, but worth it.

I think that's it…um…Marluxia and Zexion's Japanese voices are love. Sorry if there are random errors – it's late and I don't have a beta reader and I said I would get this out on Friday.

- Nashie


	3. Tête à tête: Deux

**Please Excuse My French**

_By Samurai-Nashie_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Or France. Or the recipe to Betty Crocker's double chocolate muffins. Though they do taste good. 

xoxoxoxoxo

Tête-à-tête: Deux

xoxoxoxoxo

An entire day. They were an entire day late.

As in twenty-four hours, one thousand four-hundred-and-forty minutes, plus a whole bunch of seconds. Give or take a few milliseconds. Believe me - I was watching the clock for the majority of the time. Or, I was watching Leon watch the clock the majority of the time…

They had originally been supposed to book a direct flight from the States to Paris. But unfortunately, Sora, who had actually been the one to book their flight (something Leon had forbidden him to do – _ever_), actually stopped for an overnight layover in London. _London_. Another freakin' country.

Only Sora could do that and actually get away with it.

When Leon and Cloud found out the reason why they had missed their original flight, there had been hell to pay. Even Axel, who was probably the most laid-back model - hey, the most laid-back _person _- I had ever met, knew when he had pushed people too far. Of course, pushing Leon too far often ended up in people getting maimed or sold to the Mafia.

Seriously.

When I look back on it now, it almost seems funny how ridiculous it had been. After all, only Axel of all people could pull the Core into the messes they were always getting into (of course, the Mode Vendetta would rank as the numero uno on his list of Axel Messes®). It hadn't been funny then, no duh. Calming down an irate Leon was NOT exactly what I had in mind for an otherwise wonderful Parisian morning.

I still don't know how I talked Cloud into letting me come to Mode this year. After last year, he had pretty much refused to ever take me anywhere near France (let alone Paris) ever again. But I suppose I'm just so darn likeable that he couldn't refuse – plus I threatened to leak to all the paparazzi what he really used to make his hair so spiky. He had simply glared at me and then shoved me onto the plane – well, not literally, but since I HAD followed him to the airport, suitcase (and said hair gel) in tow…

Hey, what can I say – you should always be prepared for anything.

Cloud asked me a few months ago why I always followed him around – I told him because he was the coolest guy I knew, with the coolest job I knew, and that if being his unofficial personal secretary and snooping around fashion shows wasn't the coolest thing I knew how to do, then I guess we were both screwed. Cloud once said that I was probably a ninja in my past life (I've forgotten how many times I've snuck onto planes – even though the stupid turbulence ALWAYS got to me - or backstage into the most elaborate fashion shows ever and never gotten caught). I told him that I probably was, which explained why _I_ was so cool.

Cloud simply gave me that little smirk of his, and went about ignoring me.

Okay, so maybe we weren't the most compatible people in the world. But at least Cloud was more fun than Leon, who probably wouldn't have even given me the time of day if I hadn't somehow made a place for myself in his heart (not that he'd ever admit to it, that bastard).

Anyway...

Anyone else could tell you – it started off pretty simply. Almost everything does, right? Well, I suppose the fact that the Core was late getting into Paris was a hint that things might be a little bit hectic, and sure, I had heard rumors about Luxord's friend Jack, but y'know what – I thought it was going to be a ball that year. After all, Leon had only threatened to kill me once that first week before Sora and the gang arrived, and Cloud only locked me out of his office…eh…four or five times.

Hey, I'm counting my blessings, okay?

Later, after everything was over, Zexion had come up to me and showed him the poll they took. Somehow, I had ended up second in the rankings of who started the Mode vendetta. I have to admit, I was a little taken aback – I thought for sure that I would have ranked number one. But looking back, Naminé definitely stole that position.

I always knew that Starbucks was going to be the ruin of us all.

xoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note** (6 Aug 07): This _tête-à-tête _was original posted at the beginning of chapter two. But after looking at it for awhile, I decided that this _tête-à-tête _and all future ones will be posted as their own little mini-chapters. 

And no, you did not wait five months just to have a mini-chapter. The second chapter of **Please Excuse My French**, plus the third _tête-à-tête_, is almost done (it's in its revision stages), and will be posted soon. I promised myself that I wouldn't start another project of mine until **Please Excuse My French** and **Superheroes **were both updated.

Until next time, _au revoir_!

- Nashie


	4. Bon Vivant

**Please Excuse My French**

_By Samurai-Nashie_

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Or France. Or the recipe to Betty Crocker's double chocolate muffins. Or macaroons. Though they do taste good. 

xoxoxoxoxo

Bon Vivant

xoxoxoxoxo

Kairi was dreaming of flamethrowers and penguins when Sora finally woke her up.

She blinked sleepily, and slowly lifted her head up gazing around. "We're here?"

"_Oui_, _mademoiselle_," Sora said with a wink, his duffel bag (which looked to have survived at least seven world wars, and eighteen uses as a pillow) already slung across his shoulder. He offered his hand up, bent over slightly in a clumsy bow. "Welcome to Paris."

"Your accent sucks," Axel noted from across the aisle, as he slipped his glasses back onto his face. Sora stuck his tongue out at him. But it was a lost cause – the redhead only smirked and headed towards the exit, Zexion following him quietly.

Kairi pulled her oversized purse out from under her seat and began rummaging in it, looking for a compact mirror, as they disembarked from the plane. "What time is it?"

"Half past ten," Riku replied. "That layover in London isn't going to look too good with Leon." He gave Sora a pointed look, and the boy flushed slightly in embarrassment.

"I thought it was a direct flight!" he whined as they headed towards the gates. Riku and Kairi shared similar looks, which Sora caught and began to pout. His two friends rolled their eyes as they emerged from the gates, the rest of the passengers dispersing behind them, most of them not really noticing or caring that they were passing up a fashion photographer's dream picture.

Kairi immediately pulled out her cellphone – a cutesy pinkish-violet (and extremely expensive) item with a star-shaped charm hanging from the antennae. Her thumb flew across the keypad as she dialed a very familiar number. A few seconds later, someone picked up. "Hi! We're in town…no, Sora's really sorry about that…I know we're not supposed to let Sora book flights…okay…yes…is he really angry this time…oh…oh…_oh_…"

"That last 'oh' didn't sound too good," muttered Zexion, and Kairi glared at him.

"Hmm…no, we have to grab our luggage…no, we can pull in some of the security to help…um, twenty minutes at the most…uh-huh…okay…okay…I'm really sorry again…yeah…I know…okay…see you soon." Kairi clicked her phone off and turned to glare the four young men as they headed towards the escalators, her blue eyes dark behind her sunglasses. "He is not exactly happy with us right now."

Sora grinned at her. "Well, it's not technically my fault. If someone hadn't made us miss the plane in the first place…" Axel glared at him, and looked very tempted to flip him the bird (if his hands currently weren't full with carry-ons).

"Says the boy who is still going to owe me for my iced mocha," the redhead replied. "Those things are like five dollars each."

"You're the one who _always _goes to Starbucks. I swear, that place is going to ask for your soul one day."

Twenty-five minutes, four stunned security guards, and three overzealous photographers later, the group finally managed to emerge from the airport, relatively unscathed, their luggage trailing behind them. Riku threw a glance over his shoulder and sighed. "This is all going to fit, right?"

Kairi nodded. "If he bought the SUV…" She blinked as they passed through the sliding doors and towards the drop-off and loading zones. She slung her purse higher up on her shoulder, slinging her arm through Sora's as they headed towards a long stretch vehicle parked further down past the taxis and the other struggling travelers and lots of conversations flying in French. She smiled. "And he did."

By this time, they were getting more than a few stares. Some of the stares were quite envious (after all, they had four of the airport personnel helping them with their luggage), while some of the stares belonged to those who spent more than a few seconds buzzing over the latest fashion magazines. This was Paris after all.

As they approached the SUV limo, the front passenger opened and a lithe, smartly-dressed man with ridiculously spiky blond hair stepped from the limo. Glowing blue eyes narrowed darkly at the quintet in front of him, and from the way he stood, almost casually leaning against the car door, the five could tell he was anything other than ecstatic.

More like royally pissed.

"Uh…hi, Cloud…" Sora said with a slightly embarrassed grin, which only caused the older man to deepen his frown. That look immediately sent Sora reeling into his defensive mode (well, as defensive as it could possibly get for Sora). "Okay, Cloud, we're really sorry and it was actually my fault because I didn't look at the tickets and I know you told me that I should pay more attention and I thought I did but then when we ended up in London I realized I was wrong but London wasn't so bad and it's not like we lost our luggage because this guy named Richard or Rupert or Raymond or something like that helped us out though mostly it was because I think he was crushing on Riku and we still got here before Mode started and is Leon really all that mad at us?"

Cloud blinked.

At the blonde's silence, Riku rolled his eyes at Sora's explanation and pushed him towards the limo, not _quite_ shoving him in. Kairi, giggling at her two friends, climbed in after them, throwing her purse at Sora ("Don't drop it like last time, you lazy bum! I've got _things _in there!" and Sora knew better than to ask what _things _Kairi was talking about) before settling herself right between the two boys. Axel and Zexion climbed in behind them while Cloud dealt with their (ridiculously huge amounts of expensive Italian) luggage to be trailed in a nondescript black van that sat parked behind the limo.

"Are you impressed yet, Zexion?" Kairi asked with a smile as she glanced out the window towards the bustling airport. Zexion gave a brief shrug of his shoulder.

"It doesn't seem that much different from the States…" he said softly.

"Except everyone's speaking French – there's always that little bit," said Axel, pulling off his glasses and placing them in his shirt pocket. Zexion returned his quip with a frown, only causing the redhead to grin even wider. "Oh, come off it. You haven't been to Paris until you've actually seen how crazy it gets during Mode."

Riku snorted. "That's no reason to actually look _forward _to it."

"Ahem."

The conversation died as five pairs of eyes turned to meet Cloud, who, after dealing with the luggage (way too much, in his silent opinion), had climbed into the car, crossed his arms, and settled into his Glare Mode (completely equipped with kung fu grip). Axel, having viewed this side of Cloud more time than he could actually remember (and having long since realized that the slim blonde was a _lot _stronger than he looked), quickly shut up and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling of the car.

"So…where's Yuffie?" Kairi ventured to ask. Cloud shook his head with a sigh.

"When I left, she was trying to convince Leon that killing you would not be good for V.Zero's public image," he said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "And as persistent as Yuffie is, I think she was losing that argument when I left."

Dead silence.

"We're _really _sorry?" Sora tried again, widening his eyes.

"You were an entire _day_ late."

"It was Axel's fault."

"Oh, _thanks_, Sora."

Cloud shook his head. "Never mind that. You're here now, and even though we did have to reschedule a photo shoot, Leon can probably handle that without maiming someone or selling anyone's organs on the black market. We're going to head straight towards the hotel – Yuffie's probably still doing damage control at the agency." He raised an eyebrow at the group. "Though all things considering, he might still ground you guys."

"Ground us?" Zexion asked with a frown. Kairi, Sora, and Axel all groaned, obviously knowing what Cloud meant. Riku simply sighed, and rubbed the back of his head, explaining it. Grounding the Core essentially meant making them do go-sees all day. No parties, no lunches, no meeting for photo shoots – nothing but those ridiculously impossible and nerve-wracking go-sees.

Zexion hid a wince.

The car pulled through the busy Parisian streets, as Kairi and Sora raided the mini bar (no alcoholic drinks at all, Leon had made sure of _that _after a certain fiasco in Milan that involved turkeys, Fruit Loops, and a very angry man named Fredrico). Some curious drivers and passersby tried to peek through the tinted windows to see who might be inside, and this provided Sora with no end of amusement as he waved eagerly back. After around ten minutes of this, Axel told him to knock it off, after which Sora gave him the most guilt-wrenching kicked puppy look known to mankind, and the redhead rolled his eyes, and apologized.

An hour later, the SUV had pulled up the entrance of the Hotel Prince de Galles(1), where a handful of paparazzi were camped around, hoping to get a glance of some of the famous supermodels inside. Sora, who had reached his sitting-still limit nearly forty minutes ago, nearly exploded from the car, not even waiting for the limo to pull to a stop before he bounded out to stretch his limbs.

"We're here!" he exclaimed, grinning.

"It would be apparent," Zexion murmured, following the bubbly boy and glancing around the outside foyer. Photographers, models, agents, and hotel personnel lurked around, enjoying the warm April day, and nearly ninety percent of them were on cell phones. Zexion made a face. "Is it really necessary to have the phone constantly at your ear?"

"You're behind a decade!" Kairi teased, stepping out of the limo. She adjusted her sunglasses and then grinned at him. "Just because you want don't want to stay connected…"

"Kairi, I really don't _care_."

"Hey, if he wants to be technologically retarded, let him be."

Zexion glared, and Axel winked.

"Careful, Zexy. Your face might get stuck that way." He paused. "Oh, wait. Too late."

As the saying goes, if looks could kill, Axel would be watching Star Wars in heaven with Ronald Reagan, debating on whether Han Solo shot first.

Which, as we all know, he did.

xoxoxoxo

Naminé didn't consider herself a sadist, so watching Xigbar torture Demyx was a little disturbing.

Larxene, on the other hand, was obviously enjoying every minute of it.

Xigbar had arrived late the previous night and had made a beeline straight to the hotel. Naminé and Demyx, who were once again hanging out in the lobby, trying to get a hold of Tifa for a late dinner, were surprised when the very familiar face appeared at the front desk, and quickly met their eyes. Naminé had heard Demyx give a barely audible "meep" before taking off at breakneck speeds towards the elevator.

Fourteen minutes later, and with a number of curious spectators mingling in the lobby, Xigbar had dragged Demyx back down into the lobby, the blonde wailing for mercy while Xigbar simply grinned in Naminé's direction and went out of the front door.

Naminé, left without someone to go to dinner with, called Larxene, who, after hearing that Demyx was in trouble with Xigbar again, had invited herself to lunch for the next day.

So it was a group of five that eventually headed towards the courtyard portion of the hotel's restaurant, Les Jardin de Cygnes, the next day. Of course, with all the commotion Xigbar had caused in the lobby the previous evening, it had turned out to be more of late lunch than the brunch that had originally been scheduled. With Larxene added into their group, she didn't want to leave the hotel in case Marluxia showed up while they were at lunch. Of course, the wicked gleam in her eye obviously told of other plans…

Naminé thought as she sipped her iced tea and watched as Xigbar dumped a spoonful of pepper in Demyx's soup, _that all my best friends have to be homicidal or psychotic or both? _She sighed as Demyx turned from his conversation with the maître d', and began to eat his soup, despite barely repressed snickers from Larxene and the decidedly superior smirk on Xigbar's face.I'm _the strange one_… 

As Demyx gagged and choked on what was probably his liver and Xigbar and Larxene burst into guffaws of laughter, Naminé took pity on him and called over a nearby waiter, to order a glass of milk.

"It's official," Tifa said from where she was sitting next to Naminé, her forkful of salad paused between the plate and her lips. "You three are all medically insane." Larxene smiled wickedly, Xigbar gave a mocking bow, and Demyx continued to hack and sneeze and mutter miserable things about Xigbar's probable ancestry. Tifa only snorted. "Well, it serves you right, leaving him in Barcelona."

"Sydney."

"Barcelona was last time," Naminé added helpfully as the waiter returned with a big glass of milk. The waiter gave the blonde young man a pitying look, and asked him if the food was too spicy for his palate. Demyx managed to shake his head, grabbing at the milk and gulping it down. Larxene nonchalantly pulled her Helio(2) out her pocket and began snapping pictures that would most likely end up on one of her three blogs.

Xigbar sat back in his seat and crossed her arms. "Sorry, buddy. But you totally deserved that one."

Demyx glared and reached for a napkin. "I hate you."

"Whatever you say, dude."

Tifa half-turned to Naminé, and stage-whispered, "Exactly who's babysitting who here?" Naminé giggled, but said nothing as Xigbar and Demyx turned suspicious looks their way. Tifa only smiled politely, and returned to her salad, a hint for everyone else to return to their, for the most part, uneaten meals. Well, except for Demyx, who, after shooting Xigbar a frown, quickly ordered a plain garden salad (and for additional measure, scooted his chair over a foot in the opposite direction, taking silverware, plate, and cup of milk with him).

A few moments later, with another bowl of soup for Demyx and a comment from Tifa about the possible number of carbs were in it ("seventy thousand", according to her), Larxene's phone suddenly began to beep for attention. The blonde girl picked it up with a frown, which quickly turned into a faintly amused look. "Well, well, well. Looks like the Core has arrived."

"They're _here_?"

"How do you know that?"

"Weren't they supposed to be here yesterday?"

"It seems they got on the wrong flight," a voice said from behind the group of friends, and five heads swerved to see a beautiful man with the strangest hair color (not _quite _pink, but not exactly light brown either) standing behind Larxene's chair, holding a Helio just above the young woman's head. "_Sora _booked the flight, from what I heard."

Larxene looked up and grinned mischievously. "Hello, _darling_."

"Hello, _sweetheart_."

Xigbar rolled his eyes, Demyx made gagging noises, Tifa scrunched up her nose, and Naminé giggled, getting out of her chair to give the newly arrived model a welcome hug. "Marluxia! It's so good to see you again!"

"Naminé, please stop pawing my boyfriend."

Naminé flushed a light pink while Marluxia shook his head slightly in Larxene's direction, and, like magic, produced a rose to wave under Larxene's nose. Larxene abruptly backed up in her chair, nose scrunching up. "Dammit, Marluxia! You know I hate those things!" Marluxia smiled at her and simply tossed the rose onto her lap. Larxene scowled, and muttered furiously in her beau's general direction.

Xigbar scooted his chair over so that Marluxia could take a seat with them. "So…São Paolo, huh? How was that?"

"Tiresome," the model responded with a sigh as he pulled up an extra chair. "All that ridiculous humidity…"

"Marluxia, you are the only guy I know who worries about the humidity," Tifa said with a laugh with a toss of her dark brown hair.

Demyx leaned over the table. "Okay, whatever about the humidity. You said the Core is here already?"

Marluxia nodded. "From what I've heard, they arrived an hour or so before I did." He glanced around the table and frowned slightly. "And exactly where is this new model that Ansem was talking about?"

Naminé blinked, and then flushed guiltily. "I assumed he would still be asleep." She rose to her feet, gently tossing her napkin onto her (mostly) empty plate. "I'll go see if he's awake." Larxene and Marluxia shared looks, and the former raised an eyebrow at her friend, and lifted her Helio pointedly. Naminé shook her head. "I don't have his number, Larxene. I don't even know if he has a cellphone."

"He's a model. _Of course _he has a cellphone."

Naminé smiled. "In any case, I'm going to go check on him." She paused slightly. "Please don't any of you kill each other while I'm gone." The only response she got were too-cheerful grins (from Xigbar and Demyx), smug eyebrow raises (from Larxene and Marluxia), and a long-suffering sigh (Tifa, of course). In her mind, she sighed, but hoped that she wouldn't come back to find Demyx dead, Larxene and Marluxia wanted for murder, and Xigbar and Tifa selling the video online.

She grabbed her purse and walked back inside the restaurant towards the hotel lobby. It was slightly more busy today, as now there were only three days left before Mode began. There were more fashion photographers, more magazine editors, more models (who gaped at seeing one of the Hierarchy supermodels stroll to the elevators), and more people who tried to look important but were more or less part of some model's entourage.

A few minutes later, after she had deftly managed to avoid a photographer who "loved the photoshoot from that one magazine a few months ago with that one model who's dating that actress", she knocked on Roxas' hotel room. There was silence on the other side, and then some shuffling. Another pause, and then the door swung open, and Roxas leaned out slightly, a small smile on his face. "Hey, Naminé."

Naminé grinned at him. "Roxas - how are you?"

The blond young man ran a hand through his still messy hair. "Better now that I've gotten some sleep." He shrugged. "I'm not a good flyer."

"That's okay," the girl said brightly. "But I was wondering if you'd like to join me and the others at lunch." She thought about this for a moment. "Well…actually, it would be more like dessert."

Roxas shook his head. "No thanks. I'm not really hungry. I sort of ordered room service…"

Naminé thought about this for a moment, and then suggested, "How about coffee? I know a nice little shop around here that has the best iced espresso drinks." She smiled shyly and leaned forward. "It's not that far, and it would be nice to see Paris from outside a hotel room."

Roxas laughed, a quiet, slightly throaty sound. "Why not? Let me just grab a jacket."

Naminé nodded in understanding, and leaned against the hallway wall. When he wasn't all grumbly and half-asleep, he was pretty pleasant to be around. A little quiet, but that was to be expected since he was still relatively new to the modeling business. In fact, with his calm, almost shy demeanor, she thought he would be a good addition to the mostly outrageous members of the Hierarchy.

All in all, it looked like Mode would be a fun event this year.

xoxoxoxo

"Axel, why are you reading _yesterday's _newspaper?"

"Because I didn't read it yesterday, duh," came the reply. The redhead was sitting lotus-style on Riku's bed, the American newspaper laid out in front of it as he scanned through the headlines. "So technically, it's still news to me."

Riku rolled his eyes as he tucked his navy blue dress shirt into an expensive pair of designer bootcut jeans. He walked over to the bed, and glanced at the newspaper that had taken over half of the bed. "Horoscopes, Axel? You actually believe in that stuff?"

"Not really, but it makes for an interesting read," Axel replied, running his finger down towards the zodiac signs. "You're a Scorpio, right? Let's see…your horoscope is that you will face some trouble in your love life - ha! - and look towards the 25th before making your decision regarding a problem you will face." He looked up and grinned.

"Again, Axel - horoscopes are stupid because they change from day to day," said Riku, sitting on the bed and falling back onto the pillows. "Today, it probably says that my love life, or lack of it, will be bright and prosperous from the rest of the month."

"I don't know - maybe if you actually got a girlfriend…"

"Not this conversation again," Riku grumbled, hitting the taller young man. "Exactly what does your horoscope say?"

"Well…" Axel drawled, holding the newspaper up slightly, "it says here that a charming, devilishly handsome like me is going to have…"

Someone knocked on the door at the moment with such enthusiasm, the two in the room immediately knew who it was. Riku sighed, and slid off the bed and went to open the door for Sora, who bounded into the room, a croissant in one hand and a gray sweatshirt in the other. "Hey, guys! Kairi wants to know where we're going tonight."

"Other than to face our execution by Leon?" Axel asked. "We always have that little welcoming to look forward to."

Sora laughed. "I'm sure Yuffie will have talked him out of it by now. But you guys, we have tonight and Thursday night before Mode starts. And staying in the hotel is not going to be fun."

Riku gave his friend a very long look. "Excuse me, but we've been traveling since yesterday morning. This is the third _country _we've been in less than forty hours. We're working on less than five hours asleep, and not even a really good meal, and you want to go and do something tonight?"

Sora shifted a bit. "Uh…yeah."

Axel chuckled, and closed his newspaper. "Riku, you're like an old maid sometimes. We're young and healthy and we're in Paris. All we need is some caffeine and we're good to go."

"Exactly!" Sora chimed in, stuffing the croissant he was holding into his mouth, and pulling his gray sweatshirt over his head. "So, I was gonna go and get some coffee. You remember that coffee shop we always go to, right?" He threw an arm around Riku's shoulder. "See, you said you need some caffeine, and we all know that coffee is addictive. It all works out in the end."

"Uh-huh," Axel said, picking up his newspaper, and rolling it up to toss it the trash next to the hotel room desk. "But that doesn't exactly explain what you're always on…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing. But coffee sounds fine. Kairi and Zexion are coming too, right?"

As if to answer his question, there was knocking on the door. Sora went over to open it, and his girlfriend and the newest member to the Core walked in, while Riku muttered about complete and _total _lack of respect for privacy. He collapsed back onto the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. Sora laughed. "You are such a drama queen, Riku."

There came a muffled comment from somewhere in Riku's vicinity.

Kairi giggled and bounced on the bed next to her friend. "Come on, Riku. You know you can't live without us." Riku only groaned, and allowed Kairi to use his stomach as a pillow.

Zexion frowned slightly, leaning against the edge of Riku's desk. "Are you positive that we should be leaving the hotel? What if Leon comes looking for us - and there is a good chance he will."

"You worry too much, Zexion," Sora grinned, hooking his arm through the quiet young man's and beginning to drag him towards the door. "Leon knows that he just can't kill V.Zero's supermodels, just like we know that we're probably going to get grounded until Mode starts. It's sort of like karma."

Zexion murmured something about how it was completely unlike karma, but in the midst of the shuffling to the door, his reply got lost.

Ah, well.

xoxoxoxo

Ladurée(3) was as busy as could be expected on a Wednesday afternoon. The typical amount of tourists and locals were busy peering over each other's shoulders at the ridiculously decadent pastries that simply looked as if they were bad for you - in other words, they looked like the best thing you would ever eat.

Roxas was looking at some sort of chocolate pastry concoction that simply looked as if it were full of unhealthy grams of everything, and turned to Naminé, who had lifted her sunglasses to perch atop her head as she also looked down at the pastries that filled the shelves. She gave her companion a smile. "Tempting, isn't it?"

Roxas laughed quietly. "Anything that is chocolate-flavored is tempting."

"You have a sweet tooth?"

"Sea-salt ice cream is my one weakness," admitted the golden-haired young man, as a girl with two different colored eyes approached them, and, in halting French, asked them what they would like.

Naminé immediately noted the lack of a fluent French accent, and blinked. "Pardon me, are you from around here?"

The girl blushed slightly. "No. Is my French really that bad?"

Naminé shook her head. "You don't speak with the French accent. Your pronunciation is really good, though. Did you move here recently?"

The girl nodded, relieved to find herself dealing with a customer that actually understood her and wouldn't start rattling off unknown phrases in French. "I'm a student. I'm studying abroad for the spring, and I just work here to help with my tuition."

"What are you going to school for?"

A bashful laugh this time, and the girl wiped a strand of light brown hair away from her face. "Something silly, really. I chose it on a whim…and, here I am, giving you my life story. What would you two like to order?"

"A split-shot skim café au lait for me," Naminé said, glancing quickly up at the menu. "Decaf, with no whipped cream. And a shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup." Roxas raised an eyebrow, and Naminé blushed a bit, and lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. House rules."

"Lousy rules," murmured Roxas as he pointed to one of the smaller chocolate monstrosities in the glass display. "I'll take two of those, to-go."

Naminé gaped at him.

The girl behind the counter smiled, "Two chocolate macaroons for the gentleman with a sweet tooth."

"Ansem would kill you if he ever found out you were eating those."

Roxas shrugged indifferently. "He wanted _me _to come here to Paris, not the other way around."

As the girl behind the counter wrapped up the pastries, she couldn't help but finally notice what the two blondes were wearing and why their conversation sounded so strange. The girl had her naturally ice-blonde pulled into a low chignon, and was wearing a sleeveless cowl-necked sweaterdress that was some fashionable form of pale violet (if there was such a thing), black leggings, and silver ballet flats. The young man seemed less fashion conscious, having donned a black hoodie and faded jeans. When he pulled his left hand out of his hoodie pocket to run a hand through his hair, she noticed the black-and-white bracelet, and what looked to be two rings on his middle and index fingers.

Studying this quietly for a moment, the girl finally asked in a low voice, "You two aren't models, are you?"

"I suppose all the instructions for the latte gave it a way," Roxas noted with a small chuckle, and Naminé blushed again.

"I'm sorry about that. My name is Naminé, by the way. This is Roxas."

If the cashier recognized the names, she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled pleasantly and said, "I'm Yuna. Pleased to meet you. You're here for Mode then?" She kept her voice hushed. Naminé nodded in response, while Roxas stuffed his hands back into his pockets and sighed, muttering something along the lines of not actually _wanting _to be here for Mode, but the girl either did not hear him or chose to ignore him (probably the former, but considering this was Paris, most likely the latter). "That sounds fun. Let me go grab your drink for you."

Now, as Fate would have it (and fate does tend to have it any way she wants), just as Yuna quickly moved towards the espresso machine to make Naminé's drink, the front door to Ladurée swung open, and the Core's five members walked in. Well, that is, Kairi pulled Zexion in, immediately pointing to the bakery display and chatting about the numerous pastries they had. Sora bounded in, and immediately headed straight towards the bathroom. Riku and Axel followed, both in some sort of argument whether or not Ladurée had moved in location since they had been there last year (Axel, having known that it didn't, was currently winning that argument).

"It was one block further down last time we were here," argued Riku. Axel rolled his eyes, pulling off his sunglasses.

"It didn't exactly pick itself up and move on a whim," he replied. He tapped his friend's temple with a knowing smile. "Got it memorized?"

Riku scowled.

"He's probably right, Riku," Zexion murmured, having escape from Kairi's clutches long enough to put Riku between him and the cheerful girl. Axel smirked, until Zexion added, "And since that's so rare, why don't you give him a victory?"

As Axel continued to contemplate (and tease Riku about) his friend's total lack of a sense of direction, Kairi weaved around Riku and pulled a more than unwilling Zexion (helpfully pushed by Axel) towards the short line, and said, "Okay, so technically, Cloud would never let us out of his sight again if we ate anything off the menu, but Sora, Riku, and I used to sneak in here a lot last year and buy _palmier _and _chocolat legéois_. Then we'd sneak it back to the hotel, and watch really bad French romance movies…"

At Zexion's frown, Kairi rolled her eyes, guiding him over to the bakery display. "C'mon, Zexion. You need to act more your age. Geez, are you twenty or fifty?"

"Kairi…"

"_Puis-je vous aider_?" one of the cashiers asked from behind the counter. Kairi nodded eagerly, and began to rattle off at least five different types of pastries that would probably cause Cloud to go into cardiac arrest if he heard what she was ordering. Zexion politely stepped to the side as she continued, and went to look over at the impressive macaroon display.

Just as he walked over, one of the customers who had been standing at the end of the counter, suddenly turned, a cup of some sort of coffee-drink in her hands. Zexion backed up just in time, but the girl, surprised at his appearance, dropped the cup back onto the counter, where it tipped and fell, spilling hot, café-colored liquid all over the place, some of it on her cowl-necked sweaterdress and most of it on Zexion's light gray jacket.

The girl immediately began stammering apologies, as one of the girls behind the counter reached for some napkins to help wipe up the mess. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you!"

Zexion said nothing for a small moment, only assisting the girl in attempting to clean up the mess. The young woman behind the counter quickly apologized as well, and said something about making another drink. That's when Kairi came over, a bag of pastries in one hand, and a chastising look on her face. She immediately began fussing over Zexion, placing the bag down and grabbing a fistful of napkins from the counter. "Zexion, I leave you for just two minutes…"

The girl who had spilled the coffee turned back towards the counter to ask for some more napkins, and Kairi, grabbing up her bag and her purse, propelled Zexion towards the general direction of the bathrooms, murmuring to herself the entire time.

"Naminé, what happened?" Roxas rejoined the young woman's side, a concerned frown on his face. He had ventured over to the opposite side of the store to examine another display of pastries, but had returned empty-handed.

Naminé looked distressed, having given up trying to wipe the coffee strains out her pale dress. "I spilled my drink all over. I was just surprised - there was this person standing right behind me, and I should have looked over my shoulder before I…" She trailed off, and bit her lip as Yuna returned with another café au lait.

"I'm sorry," she murmured apologetically as she wiped a wet rag over the mess. "I should have told you he was behind you."

"Where did he go?" Roxas asked, glancing around.

"No, it's not his fault…I should have…"

"He shouldn't have been standing so close behind you," Roxas murmured, his brow furrowing. "Did he leave?" The cashier shook her head.

"No, I think a young lady with red hair was pushing him towards the bathroom." Yuna pointed in the general direction, and before she could say otherwise, Roxas had already gone. The young woman bit her bottom lip in almost the same distressed way as Naminé . "I hope he doesn't get upset with him. It really was my fault."

Not that Roxas would have actually agreed with her had she been right. He weaved through the customers standing around the shop, turning a slight corner and saw a young woman with dark red hair tapping her foot outside one of the bathrooms, a large bag (both purse and pastry bag) in both hands. She was saying something along the lines of why certain incidents always have to happen when they came into this place, and why did it always have to be one of the boys, and weren't Sora and Axel bad enough as it is?

Kairi turned slightly when someone murmured a brief, unaccented apology as they scooted past her into the bathroom. Catching the sight of brilliant blue eyes, she sighed and said, "Listen, Sora, you just can't -" She stopped suddenly as the person disappeared inside the bathroom, but not before she caught a glimpse of the telltale messy hair.

The telltale messy _blond _hair.

"Sora…?"

Now if Kairi had remembered properly, she would have realized that Sora had headed to the bathroom the moment they arrived in the café, and had not yet stepped out. And unless Sora was the master of all kinds of disguises, which he most certainly was not, he would not have dyed his hair in less than five minutes time.

She would remember this two weeks later, and sigh over the fact that she hadn't realized it then.

xoxoxoxo

The bathroom was fancy.

But, like bathrooms everywhere, it wasn't exactly a laundromat, and Sora realized as he looked at Zexion's shirt with a frown that nothing short of said laundromat was going to get the coffee stain out.

"Well, the good news is we aren't far from the hotel."

Zexion raised an eyebrow. "And the bad news?"

"The bad news is that I was going to borrow this jacket from you later, but now I obviously can't."

"…"

Sora beamed, and stuffed a handful of wet paper towels in the trash. "But what a way to make an impression in Paris. Who knows? It might be the latest trend starting next spring."

"…"

Sora headed towards the door, and was pulling it open just as someone was pushing the door in. Startled, he backed up slightly from the extra force…and found himself staring into perfectly identical blue eyes.

Sora stared.

Roxas stared.

Zexion crossed his arms and glanced at his watch.

And to make things worse, Kairi poked her head over the blonde's shoulder and winced. "Uh…Sora…you're _still _in there?"

The uncanny resemblance between them obviously did nothing more than slightly startle the blonde, who only frowned, eyes serious once again. He opened his mouth to say something when a slender hand reached past Kairi and gently pulled him back. Four heads turned to see a slender blonde girl wearing a pair of enormous shades was pulling him backwards. "Let's go, Roxas. We should be getting back to the hotel."

Roxas looked about ready to say something again, but Naminé shook her head. "I'll tell you later." And with one final tug, she managed to pull Roxas away from the glaring (or gaping, in Sora's case) contest that had begun and headed back towards the main part of the café.

As they neared the door, Naminé hesitated slightly at the two young men quietly arguing by it, and then quietly murmured, "_Excusez-nous_…" and slipped passed them, Roxas in tow.

Axel slid out of the way, still engrossed in his conversation, only slightly bumping the shoulder of the blond young man on his way out. "I don't think the pastries here are that bad, but enough to get up and move the entire store? Yeah, right."

Riku shrugged. "Either that, or Kairi bought everything to take back to our hotel room. Again."

"I'm guessing it's a room service, _Amé lie_, prank call other hotels sort-of night, huh?"

The silver-haired young man sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "I don't know how Kairi always manages to talk us into these things."

Just as he said that, the aforementioned redhead came walking up to them, Zexion and Sora (and huge bag of pastries) in tow. "You guys! You never believe what we just saw!"

"If we won't believe it, why even tell us?" Axel teased with a wink. Kairi rolled her eyes, and hit him on the shoulder with her purse (causing Axel to wince, because Kairi carried everything from compact mirrors to probable muskrat families in her purse).

"There was someone in the bathroom who looked just like me!" Sora exclaimed. "Except he had blond hair which was a little shorter and spikier…"

"Spikier than yours? There's a feat…" Riku chuckled.

Sora stuck out his tongue. "Well, it's true. Seemed like he was upset about something but I couldn't…" He would have said more, if his phone had suddenly rang, almost simultaneously with Kairi's. The two shared looks, and then Sora pulled out his BlackBerry as Kairi pulled out her pink phone. Sora gulped, and Kairi blinked. "I've got a text from Leon."

"I've got one from Yuffie."

Leon's text message was pretty simple and straight to the point: **AGENCY NOW OR ELSE**

Yuffie's was a bit more frantic: **he's gonna kill all of u!!! he has that CRAZY look in his eyes!!! 911 on speeddial!**

Before they could react to this, another text message followed.

Love ya tons, c ya soon (axel, ur an idiot). yuffie

Axel sighed.

"Walk through the valley of the shadow of death, anyone?"

Everyone groaned.

"Yeah, thought so."

xoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note**: (13 Aug 07) First of all, happy AkuRoku day! It's no coincidence that I finally updated this story on a day exclusively devoted to one of the couples from this story. XD 

Secondly, you guys are probably wondering why this story is taking so long. Well, at least this chapter. The only reason for this is because - it's the real world. No, not that the real world is taking me away from this story. It's just that because a lot of this story is set in a _real _place (Paris, France) with people who speak a _real _(mostly foreign to me) language. And though it's a fusion world (the trio still comes from Destiny Islands, Riku and Zexion's hair colors are not naturally possible, etc., etc.), I do want to _try_.

Besides, I absolutely adore the idea of the KH gang speaking in French.

So, hopefully, with my little Paris travel book and my _French For Dummies_ book at my side, I'll be able to get through this a tad bit more easily than I have been.

Thanks for your patience! Reviews would be awesome like the fishies.

_A bientot_! 

- Nashie

Chapter references: 

1.) Hotel Prince de Galles - A very nifty, upscale hotel that lies pretty much right next to the Champ-Elysées. Check this hotel up on the internet - it's ridiculously gorgeous. Wouldn't you want to stay at it if you were a model?

2.) Helio - One of those newfangled BlackBerry-type cellphones that does everything you can think of except get good reception. Larxene has the Helio Ocean, Marluxia has a Helio Heat.

3.) Ladurée - A pastry shop that is located exclusively in Paris. It's like the Starbucks of Dunkin Donuts. They specialize in macaroons, a meringue type of pastry that actually sounds pretty good.


	5. Tête à tête: Trois

**Please Excuse My French**

By Samurai-Nashie

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. However, I do own a PlayArts Axel and I can do many, many things to him. Now, if only I had a PlayArts Roxas, than my fangirlish heart would leap for joy. And why oh why is there no PlayArts Riku?

xoxoxoxoxo

_Tête-à-tête: Trois_

xoxoxoxoxo

Cloud was being Cloud again, so technically he had his own share in the part of the vendetta.

I'm surprised no one actually pinned it on me, but Yuffie later told me that it was because "Cloud is Cloud" and I'm not responsible for the way he acts. Still, I couldn't help but feel just a bit guilty for everything that happened in the following days. If I had never actually talked to him at that charity event…

Still, it's not like I knew at that time, about him and…well, Yuffie claimed that she had dropped enough hints in the past. And then were was that whole deal with Sephiroth, and it was so confusing and tangled. I had heard of love triangles before, but not love hexagons (pentagons? Octagons? Do they actually get higher than that?).

It had started actually two years previous to this year's Mode. I wasn't even in the Hierarchy when I met Leon. He had been quiet and didn't say much, except when he introduced me to Cloud (something along the lines of "and this is Cloud" or something really mundane like that - leave it to Leon to be the most eloquent person in the world). How they met, I never actually found out, not even from Yuffie. All I knew was that Cloud and Leon had both been working for Leon's father, who had still been the manager of V.Zero at the time. Charming guy - if a little bit eccentric - and nothing like his son.

Ah, well.

Those three probably would have swayed me over to V.Zero, except that after that year's Mode, when I had to replace one of the older Hierarchy models in a photoshoot at the last minute, I suddenly was vaulted into the limelight. Add that to a not-so-subtle hint at my…er…assets by a not-so-tactful magazine editor (now that I think about it, Rufus _still _hasn't apologized for that one), then I was virtually unable to move from the Enix's Hierarchy to V.Zero's Core.

That didn't exactly stop me from getting to know Cloud more. And it would have gone great (probably) except…

Then that thing with Sephiroth happened. And Aerith. And then…Leon. Plus, with Yuffie deciding that not only was she a good unofficial secretary but also a fabulous matchmaker, there was that entire deal with that dinner in New York. Dear lord, I wasn't even sure that Leon could manage to do damage control on that one (I would have sworn that every single photographer from all the leading gossip columns and magazines was there that night). That occurred just a month after last year's Mode, and things just sort of went…downhill after that.

Platonic relationships are no fun, and unrequited love is even worse.

I told Yuffie never to give me advice ever again. I think Aerith probably talked to her about it (Aerith had this ability to float just outside of the whole vendetta, by the way, shifting from Core to Hierarchy, simply because she was Aerith, and no one could call anything against her). Either way, after Mode ended this year, and with Yuffie proclaiming herself the godmother of all the future babies from the couples that resulted (Sora had readily agreed to it - earning glares from his respective beaus), I decided that maybe there was some truth in what she was saying.

_Some _truth, Yuffie. I know you'll be reading this later.

I arrived in Paris around three days earlier than anyone else in Mode (I had to photoshoot and an interview for a local high-end fashion magazine, and Ansem was making sure that at least one of us was there to be seen, pretty confident that we made managed to beat V.Zero out of the issue - I think he was just short of saying, "neener-neener-neener" and blowing raspberries in Leon's general direction…)

I would have gone to V.Zero's Parisian agency to see Cloud, but Ansem pretty much warned me that if I got within twenty yards distant of him, he would personally tie me to the bedpost in my hotel room.

I still wondered if he even thought about the charity gala.

That stupid charity gala. Everyone else may think that the vendetta started at Laduree's two days earlier, but I know for certain that things would have been just find if not for that ridiculous event. And that fact that Naminé and Kairi both wore dark blue dresses.

Oh, well.

At least I got to talk to Cloud.

xoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note **(15 Oct 2007): And God said, "Let homework rain from the skies for forty days and forty nights." And the word God had spoken came true, and Nashie-chan was hereby relegated to a small, dark corner of her room, filling out papers and papers of equations for electrical engineering.

Yah. That's where I've been.

I'm not promising updates anymore, because I always seem to shoot myself in the foot when I do. Lets just say it will be updated, because my mind has been running rampant with the plot bunnies for this story.

Go, plot bunnies.

- Nashie


	6. Entre Nous

****

Please Excuse My French

By Samurai-Nashie

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Pepsi, or Coca-Cola.

**Soundtrack:** "Glamorous" by Fergie

oOo

__

Chapter 3: Entre Nous

oOo

V.Zero's Parisian agency was located just off the Champs-Élysées, within walking distance of the Arc de Trompe(1), and all those very nifty high-end designer stores that you could only stare at and wish you had enough money to blow on a handbag that cost more than a third-world nation's GDP. Natives and tourists walked leisurely down Paris' most famous street, taking pictures, clutching their bags, and simply being…well, people doing everyday business.

At that moment, Sora would have done anything to simply disappear into that crowd and never be seen or heard from again.

Rather than hopping back into their conspicuous SUV again, the five models of V.Zero's Core decided they'd rather wing it with the taxis. After all, with their (extremely expensive) sunglasses, Sora said, they were bound to fade into the crowds anyway. At that point, though, Kairi sighed and told Sora that _he _may have been able to disappear into the crowds, but because the rest of the group's telltale hair colors and styles, they were pretty much screwed.

Then she glared in Axel's general direction.

So fifteen minutes later, with a number of paparazzi nearly tripping over themselves at seeing the entire Core emerge from Ladureé, two different taxis pulled to the front of V.Zero's agency. It was a three-story white brick building that was dwarfed by the two buildings surrounding it, and since it was located on a tree-bedecked avenue and faced south, the front of the agency was almost always in the shade.

Sora, Kairi, and Riku emerged from the first taxi to arrive, and glanced around the avenue. A number of people, from the agency's own crew to lost tourists who were desperately trying to find their way back to the Champs-Élysées, mingled about the shaded avenue. A handful of bored journalists lingered across the street, with some photographers scattered in their midst.

Kairi sighed, lifting her aviator sunglasses and glanced towards the revolving glass doors that led inside the surprisingly unobtrusive white building. Right above the door, in swirly black letters, it read: _V.Zero - Paris_. "You guys, I think this is the last time we'll see the light of day."

Sora's eyes went wide, and he would have said more, but Riku was already pulling him and Kairi towards the doors as Axel and Zexion got out of the second taxi that pulled up. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to the driver who he was exactly driving until that point and now the driver was excitedly yammering on about Mode. Riku only raised an eyebrow as Zexion left Axel stranded by the car, in an attempt to pay the starstruck driver. "You just left him?"

Zexion shrugged. "Better him than me."

Sora snorted and Kairi giggled.

The four entered into the agency, being emitted into a modernly chic lobby, that was currently practicing the latest fad of minimalism. Well, actually, the real story had been that Leon had taken one look at the lobby when he had become manager of the agency, and had bluntly stated, "No." After that, the only thing left in the all-white lobby was a circular black desk that housed one receptionist, one row of plush-looking black chairs on either side of the lobby, and two gigantic pop-art paintings in red and violet on the west and east walls.

"Wow, this place still feels like a museum…" Riku said, adjusting the collar of his dark blue coat.

The lobby was empty except for the receptionist, who was looking both picturesque and bored at the same time - in other words, the perfect model face. Her brown hair was pulled into two messy pigtails, and from where she was sitting, it looked as if she were wearing a bright orange jumper over a black long-sleeved turtleneck. She blinked big green eyes as the four of them approached the desk, and then blinked again when she realized who stood before her. Then she smiled, cupping her chin in her hands. "You guys are in a lot of trouble."

"Nice to see you too, Olette," Kairi said with a bright smile. "Where is everyone?"

"Ah, you just missed the rush," Olette replied, waving her hand in the direction of the door. "I guess it's going to be slow for awhile, since Mode starts on Friday." Then she waved her finger at them. "Cloud came in around an hour ago - he didn't look too happy."

"But Cloud's never happy," Sora protested as Axel finally joined them in the lobby, glaring murderously at Zexion who simply ignored him.

"Touché." Olette then nodded her head towards the three elevator doors that sat just behind the secretary desk. "You guys better head up before Leon comes down here, declaring murder." She winked at them, and then turned back to her Solitaire game on the computer. The group took Olette's advice reluctantly, and passed the desk, and headed up the elevators to the third floor.

The elevator doors whished open to reveal chaos.

Well, it was chaotic compared to the peaceful white calm of the lobby. Like most places, the agency looked a lot smaller on the outside than it was on the inside. The white walls were still dominant, along with the pop-art paintings that prevailed on the high walls. Directly in front of the elevators was another desk, crescent moon shaped, behind which sat two more receptionists, hurriedly talking into the phone headsets, setting up dates and typing notes into the computers that sat in front of them.

The area also had more rows of the black chairs that had been in the lobby, and were mostly occupied by various other models, who were looking bored and gorgeous at the same time. Assistants ran from one hallway to the next, muttering darkly about deadlines and "that girl who just doesn't realize that you can't wear burgundy stilettos with a navy blue cashmere sweater from last season". Several eyes flew up as the elevator doors opened, and several mouths dropped as the five members of the Core exited.

As the elevator doors closed behind them, a blond young man came running up to them, clearly out of breath, and just barely stopping in time as he skidded on the polished wooden floor. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he grinned brightly at them. "Hey! You do know that this is all totally your fault."

Axel glanced around the third-floor lobby and whistled low under his breath. "Looks like fun to me."

Tidus rolled his eyes. "Riiiight." He crossed his arms and looked towards the models sitting in the black chairs off to the side. "Turns out that Lulu decided to join in fashion week this season, and everyone's going crazy because of it. Last minute fittings and everything - the fashion director at _Elite _just won't _stop _calling for details - and then because you guys weren't here, Leon had to send some of the lower rank models to try on some of her designs…and it's just been crazy."

Kairi's jaw had dropped the minute Tidus mentioned Lulu. The dark-haired fashion designer was infamously known for her radical ideas and gorgeous haute couture, and since she very rarely participated in any fashion weeks, when she did, it was as if all hell broke loose. Agencies would fight tooth-and-nail to make sure their models were the ones wearing her threads - it was two years ago that Kairi and Sora had both unwittingly worn her spring line and ended up in Core from the attention they received afterwards.

"When did she call?" Riku asked, surveying the scene as Tidus jumped out of the way in order to avoid being smashed into by an assistant holding an armful of papers.

"Um…three hours ago?"

Again, Kairi's jaw dropped and Sora shared a nervous look with Riku. If they thought Leon was going to be pissed before…

Before they could even contemplate how much their funerals would cost, someone bolted from a nearby hallway straight towards their group, easily avoiding two models (who ended up crashing into each other), and neatly vaulting over a low table covered in fashion magazines, landing with soft "oomph" next to Tidus. Dark eyes narrowed suspiciously at the blond. "Y'know, Tidus, your job was to warn them _while _bringing them to Leon, not warning them and giving them a chance to run away."

Tidus raised his hands in a defensive pose. "Hey, sorry, sorry…" Then he glanced at his watch, and sighed. "I gotta run anyway. I left one of the new girls in charge of talking to the people at _Madame_…" Before anyone could berate him on that, he spun around and ran away. The new addition to the group sighed, and placed fists on her hip.

"Boys…" she muttered before grinning at the five people in front of her. "_Bienvenu a Paris_!"

Sora returned the grin - Yuffie Kisagari always had that affect on people she was around, with her unlimited supply of enthusiasm and energy and extremely high tolerance for lousy attitudes (after all, she hung around with Cloud and Leon most of the time). "Hey, Yuffie. How's life?"

"Life was good, and then Lulu called, and everything sort of went all strange and homicidal and loopy…" Yuffie replied good-naturedly. "She called us first, you know that? She really wanted to get you guys and some of the models over at Enix for her fall and winter line. Leon's really pissed."

"Hehehe…great."

Yuffie only smiled, and grabbed Sora and Axel by the wrists, leading them past the still-starstruck models in the lobby and towards the constantly opening glass doors just past them. Assistants and make-up artists ran up and down the hallway, speaking into their Bluetooth headsets, holding armloads of paper, fabric, and…lingerie? Yuffie ignored all of them, shouting, "'Scuse me, 'scuse me, dead men…oh, sorry Kairi…dead people walking…hey, don't give me that look…Axel, don't you even think about…no, I don't want any coffee, does it look like I need anymore caffeine…shut up, Riku."

She turned down a short hallway, and pulled (read: pushed) the group up three stairs to a brightly-lit room. The room's décor, like the rest of the agency, consisted of polished dark wooden floors and white walls. The only thing different about this room was that the entire north wall was pretty much a balcony. All the glass doors leading to the foliage-shaded balcony were closed, except for the doors closest to the west entrance, where three people stood chatting amiably outside. Of course, the Core weren't exactly concerned with them.

Because sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, writing something at near-incredible speeds whilst cradling a cell phone between his ear and shoulder, was Leon.

He looked up as the six entered into the room, but other than slightly narrowing his eyes at them, made no motion to greet them. Cloud, on the other hand, who was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk, frowned at the group, and then gestured for them to come in. Yuffie needed no such formal invitation, and bounded right into the room to glance behind Leon's shoulder to see what he was writing down. The dark-haired man ignored her.

"He's on the phone with Lulu now," Cloud said, as the Core sat down or perched on the arms of the chairs in front of the desk. Sora frowned miserably - Cloud always had a habit of managing to say just enough to scare them, but never enough to alert them that everything was going to be okay (or completely and totally disastrous).

A few moments later, with a monotonous, "three o' clock then", Leon clicked off the phone, finished what he was writing, and lowered his pen onto the table. Silence reigned supreme in the room as the staring match began (with Yuffie doing a scarily realistic impression of Leon behind the table, causing Sora and Kairi's faces to twitch with suppressed laughter).

Leon took in a deep breath, and then rose to his feet, planting his hands on the table, and glaring at all of them. "Why the hell do I keep you five around?"

"Uh…is that a rhetorical question?" Sora asked nervously, scratching the back of his head. Yuffie snickered as Leon scowled.

"No, it is not a rhetorical question," came the reply. "I want to know why I put myself through this every time with you. And Axel, don't even get me started on you." Axel blinked and then grinned, which quickly vanished into a wince when Zexion pinched him. "Do you have any idea how much the schedule is messed up now? Mode starts on Friday and Lulu was really counting on you."

"Oh, please not the guilt trip…" Riku muttered under his breath.

Leon sat back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "I swear, if my dad didn't like you all so much, I would have been done with this months ago. Hell, I would have been done with this today."

Kairi perked up at this - Leon didn't really talk about his dad much, and to say that his father had talked him out of killing them all…she noticed Cloud sigh wearily, and cast his eyes towards the balcony, where the three people from before had been…oh…_oh_…

"Hey, kids!"

Aw, they were _totally _screwed.

oOo

"We were going for something very traditional, very classic, yet very young," the older woman said, as her two companions "tsked" and adjusted certain portions of the dress Naminé was wearing. She cleared her throat as the other two women began to argue over the hem of the dress, and then went over to talk about her solution to the problem.

Naminé winced slightly as the shortest and most plump of the women accidentally pricked her with a needle. Amidst the flurry of apologies, she turned (as much as she possibly could, without leaving a waterfall of safety pins in her wake) to where Ansem was sitting. The older gentleman, with a neatly trimmed white beard and intense hazel eyes, was watching the entire process with something akin to amusement.

"Can you breathe, Naminé?" he asked in deep, rich voice. The blonde girl managed a shy smile, not really wanting to say anything for fear of the precious oxygen that would be wasted in the reply. She caught Roxas' eye - the blond young man had been dragged along to Enix's agency soon after the trip to Ladureé, where they had been supposed to meet up with Demyx and Tifa. A late phone call from Tifa, though, revealed that they had been sidetracked by, of all things, a mime.

Roxas had given Naminé a long, long, _long _look when she had told him why the two other Hierarchy members were going to be late. She could have sworn that she heard him saying, "what the hell are all these people _on_?"

The reluctant model was currently sitting behind Ansem, watching the goings-on with a curious frown on his face, his head cocked to the side. The three women - Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, the three fashion designers of Triple - hadn't turned their attention onto him yet, but from the way their eyes lit up when he walked into the room (and began to whisper excitedly amongst themselves about that "gorgeously handsome boy") Naminé realized he wasn't far behind.

Ansem rose to his feet and walked over to the slim blonde girl, eyeing the dress with a critical gaze. "I think it suits you just fine. It will be perfect for the charity gala." He then gestured to Roxas, who had silently began playing Solitaire on his phone. "Now, I know his addition is relatively last minute…"

"Oh, we have something perfect for him!"

"It will compliment Naminé's dress very well!"

"It's blue!"

Roxas scrunched his nose up. Ansem ignored him as the three women escorted him back to the designing closet, leaving Naminé and him left in the exterior of the dressing room. Roxas gave Naminé a concerned look. "_Can _you breathe?"

"Not really, no," came the breathless reply.

Roxas laughed and then stood up to examine the dress at a better angle. It was a lengthy and slim strapless bit, in vibrant deep blue tulle. Even though small details still had to be worked out (like the navy blue sash at the waist), the dress itself was, according to Ansem and the women of Triple, nothing short of breathtaking. Roxas thought it looked like any other dress, but refrained from saying these sentiments aloud, for fear of his life.

"I think they think you're my date for the charity event," Naminé said with a smile, wincing slightly as a safety pin poked into her ribs.

The blond young man laughed at that. "Nice to know. Exactly what is this for anyway?"

"You know the former manager of V.Zero?" Roxas shook his head. "Oh, well…his name is Laguna Loire. He's the current manager's father - yes, it's a family business apparently. Well, a few years ago, he instituted a sort of 'high-fashion gives back' event every year. It's usually a bit smaller than this, but since it _is _Mode's 50th anniversary…"

Roxas frowned at that, sitting back down in one of the chairs. "Is most of the fashion week like this?'

"It's worse. There are a few parties thrown by the designers, dozens of fashion shows, honorary events, a few concerts here and there." Naminé sighed. "Pretty much the highlight of every tabloid magazine on the market, if any of the paparazzi manage to get into any of those parties." The blonde girl shook her head. "You should have seen the mess two years ago - I wasn't in the Hierarchy then, but Marluxia was and he said that a lot of models' careers hit a standstill after that Mode."

Roxas said nothing, as the three women's sojourn into the other room wasn't as lengthy as previously expected, and the three older women came bustling back around the corner, arguing about tuxedos. In the back of his mind, Roxas dimply realized that this wasn't a good thing for him. His thought was confirmed when three pairs of eyes landed on him and bright, grandmotherly smiles lit up the women's faces.

Around four hours later, with Naminé and Roxas sufficiently pricked to death from various safety pins and Flora chiding Ansem about the "inevitable but still dreadfully inadequate timing" he had given them to finish Naminé's dress and Roxas' tuxedo, the two blondes had managed to sneak out from the shop and into the early Parisian evening. The sharp, distinctive smell of rain filled the air, and even though the days were beginning to warm up, spring in the evening still carried hints of the chill winds of winter, and Naminé couldn't help but shiver as the pair managed to hail a cab next to a taxi stand.

"This coat is more fashionable than it is sensible," Naminé murmured before quickly turning to the driver and saying, "_Le Hotel Prince de Galles, s'il vous plait_."

As the cab began to weave its way around the Parisian streets heading north (the Triple shop was just across the Seine from the Champs-Élysées, making it a rather long ride back to the hotel), Roxas took the opportunity to glance out the window. He had been far too tired yesterday to even begin sightseeing (Aerith had been highly amused by his half-awakened grumpiness, and Roxas dryly figured that she must have been a saint in another life to deal with him on a daily basis). He had never been to Paris - hell, had never been to _France _- and found that the bustling nightlife, or at least what was beginning of it, reminded him vaguely of Times Square.

The only difference was that Roxas could actually tell that it was evening in Paris whereas the bright advertisements in the New York nearly blinded him.

"Do you like it so far?"

Roxas blinked, and turned towards the other occupant in the backseat, who was curled up in her white leather jacket, her chin tucked into the jacket's high collar. "Do I like what? Paris?"

"Yes."

"It's…a nice place, from what I've seen," Roxas said after a moment. "But…you know…I can think of other places I'd rather be."

"Back home?" Naminé asked, and her tone was wistful. Roxas nodded, glancing out the window once again, the bright streetlights that were beginning to light up the street reflecting his brilliant blue eyes. Naminé had already figured that was the case - modeling always seemed like such an adventure, such a privilege…when you weren't traipsing half-way across the globe at godforsaken hours of the day, being constantly nitpicked at by the media and the editors and the other models…

Naminé felt sorry for him - at least she had a few years to build up some resistance to the stingy barbs that were inevitable in an industry that was based solely on outer beauty. He was jumping right into this world, and from what she had seen in Laduré e, did not take to insults, implied or not, lightly.

"_Excusez-moi…eh…mais d'où êtes-vous_? _L'Amérique_?"

Naminé blinked at the question from the driver, and then giggle. "Oh! Um…_simplement de passage_, _monsieur_."

"Ah, _oui_, _oui_. _Famille_? _Amis_?"

"_En fait commerce_."

"_Commerce_?"

"_Oui_," Naminé continued, glancing at Roxas out of the corner of her eye(2). The taxi driver followed her gaze and then peered at her through his rear-view mirror. Roxas turned to look out the window as Naminé continued along in her conversation, artfully sidestepping any questions as to the nature of their business, and with a few practiced tilts of her head, kept her eyes shadowed in the recesses of the backseat and proved to be unrecognizable as a famous model. Roxas noticed, in the reflection of the window, that the moves must have been almost second-nature to the girl, almost as much as it came to striking poses and strutting down the catwalk.

The thought of the upcoming fashion shows in the next two weeks made Roxas wince, and once again, bitterly curse Vexen from one hell to the next. The blond slightly ill-tempered man could have chosen any of the other models from the agency - Jasmine, Phillip, and Eric had all been there much longer than he had and were much more popular, having a total of twelve covers between the three of them. But…no.

__

Now I'm stuck here, in the middle of the worse fashion orgy known to man,

Roxas thought darkly before sighing. Technically, he should be grateful - even if it wasn't an easy lifestyle, it paid _very _well, and if clung to it for a few more years with his sanity and reputation in tact, he might even be able to retire at the ripe old-age of twenty-something and go to college…or something.

Besides, Roxas thought, as they crossed the Seine - how bad could two weeks be?

oOo

Kairi woke up to the sounds of "Canon in D" ringing very loudly from her cellphone.

Groaning, she lifted her head from her pillow, dark red strands clinging to her cheeks (_ah, that's going to leave a mark…_) and glared at the magenta phone that was vibrating and ringing on the stand next to her bed. Half-fumbling for it and blinking bright April sunshine out of her eyes, she flipped the top of the phone open, and mumbled, "What?"

"You're not still asleep, are you?"

"If I recall, someone had the idea of staying up all night and watching old Bogie(3) movies," Kairi grumbled, sitting up and swiping her hair out her eyes. She could almost imagine Riku smirking on the other end of the land, and tried not to smile and roll her eyes - the young man was a notorious early-riser, and had probably already called Sora and Axel (knowing especially that Axel hated waking up before the sun was halfway in the sky). He always called her last, and Kairi knew why…but she'd never say so aloud.

"Well, it was a good idea especially after what happened on Wednesday…"

"Do not talk about Wednesday," Kairi said, flopping back against her pillows, and debating ordering room service - a nice cup of coffee with enough cream and sugars to drown out the bitter taste sounded wonderful right about then. "I swear, Laguna does that on _purpose_."

The group had known they were in deep trouble two days ago when Laguna, of all people, had strolled in from the balcony of V. Zero's Parisian agency with a bright smile on his face. Truly, he looked nothing like his son - Leon was all frowns and contemplative silences, and Laguna, for all intents and purposes, was a big dork. His easy manner and constant smile were endearing to all those who met him - it was often hard to contemplate that he and the current manager of V.Zero were father and son, except that they shared the same dark-lashed blue eyes.

Kairi and Axel had actually known Laguna for the longest - Axel used to hang out with Zack Fair a lot, (and the stories she heard of when those two got together were nothing short of shocking, embarrassing, and ridiculous), and Zack was Cloud's best friend. And being around Cloud automatically meant being around Leon and his dad. Kairi, on the other hand, had simply been with V.Zero longer, three months longer than Sora and Axel, and ten months longer than Riku.

Technically, the older man shouldn't've scared them - but there was something about Laguna's…extremely optimistic manner that was unnerving.

After having been cheerfully told never to let Sora buy airplane tickets ever again if they honestly enjoyed having their limbs attached to their bodies, Laguna had then given them a run-down of Friday's events - which mainly consisted of getting ready for the charity dinner and gala (and avoiding Leon at all costs). Leon had been characteristically quiet during the meeting, shifting from adding on to his father's comments and calling Lulu to arrange for the five members of the Core to meet her later that night.

Later that night turned out to be two o'clock Thursday morning.

Kairi's sleep-deprived brain still couldn't wrap around the fact that they had all managed to stay awake during the five-hour fittings and styling. As it was, the hectic day and the lack of a good night's sleep since Monday night (damn that jet leg) pretty much knocked everyone out for the rest of Thursday.

"So, how are Sora and Axel?"

Riku chuckled. "Axel cussed me out five ways to Wednesday, and Sora actually feel asleep again in the middle of talking to me." Kairi laughed at that, knowing full well that it was true - while Sora was typically a morning person, jet-lag destroyed his sense of morning, noon, and night, and when he fell asleep, it would take nothing short of nuclear Armageddon to get him moving. "But he eventually woke up. And Axel's actually sitting here in my room…drinking my coffee, might I add."

"It's your own fault," Kairi could hear the redhead grumble on the other side of the line. "You plan on waking me up this early, you better plan on making the coffee."

"He's just mad because it's not Starbucks," Kairi giggled, and Riku snorted, relating the comment over to the other young man in the room. Kairi heard the other redhead's husky laugh.

"Damn straight."

"Okay, then…" Kairi said after a moment, blinking at the sunbeams that pierced through her blue-and-white hotel curtains. "Um, were Axel and Zexion coming with us?"

"I would assume so. But we all know that it's going to take longer for you to get ready."

"Yeah. So I'll just meet you all up there? I'm supposed to meet Esmeralda at her loft in…" Kairi winced. "In a little over an hour. I can't believe you let me sleep that late, Riku!"

Riku laughed, and Kairi imagined him shaking his head in exasperation. "Kairi, your phone comes in with a built-in alarm clock, among other things. Why do you need me to wake you up?"

Kairi couldn't come up with an adequate answer, and rolled her eyes instead, fully aware that Riku couldn't see her.

After bidding each other good mornings and "make sure Sora's awake!", Kairi glanced around her room before vaulting over the side of the bed, and heading toward the bathroom, muttering along the way about perfectly inadequate smart-alecky alarm clocks.

Forty minutes later (and knowing that she was running late), Kairi, with her cellphone cradled between her shoulder and her ear and toting an expensive white-and-gold leather purse on her shoulder, hurried out from the revolving doors of the hotel. She was glad that one of the SUVs was already waiting for her, since the paparazzi had already caught sight of her telltale maroon-colored strands and immediately began stirring in her general direction.

Kairi sighed as she hopped into one of the SUVs, slamming the door behind her. The driver snorted at her, and gave her a look through the rearview mirror. "Popular today?"

"Well, it's only four of them today," Kairi noted, tugging her sunglasses upwards. "I'm so glad that no one staying here has been in the tabloids lately. Then there'd be a million of them. Although…I'm glad we're switching over to the Four Seasons on Tuesday - the Prince de Galles is nice, but the Four Seasons is love."

"Well, perhaps they are looking for a confrontation between the Core and the Hierarchy," the driver, a man named Steiner, said, raising an eyebrow. Kairi shrugged.

"I honestly haven't seen any of them since we got here on Wednesday - besides there's no reason for us to be fighting when we're all here for the same thing," the girl suggested as the SUV pulled out onto Avenue George V, and began heading northwest on the Rue Pierre Charron. "I'm so sick of looking at those magazines saying that we're feuding with them or that someone stole someone else's boyfriend or girlfriend or…I don't know. Something stupid like that."

Steiner harrumphed.

Kairi smiled a bit at his response, before crossing her legs lotus-style and resting her head against the window, watching as the stores and cafés passed in the morning light. Paris in the morning was so incredibly beautiful - almost as beautiful as Venice at sunset (Kairi felt a little twinge of excitement, glad that she had been able to convince Leon to allow her, Sora, and Riku to travel to the fashion festivities in Milan for a few days - Paris may have been fun and upscale, but Milan was old-school and the classic definition of cool).

Esmeralda's loft was just a little over a half-mile north of the Champs-Élysées, in one of those decidedly ridiculous high-end neighborhoods that practically oozed with wealth and prestige. Some tourists who once again had managed to lose their way in looking for Paris' famous landmarks were often stunned on finding themselves lost in the ritzy neighborhoods that damn well near hugged the Champs-Élysées. It really seemed to say nothing more to Kairi than "oh, my god! Look! We're rich enough to live near stores that sell Prada and Christian Dior!"

Kairi snorted, knowing those were the exact words Esmeralda had used when she had visited Tokyo some weeks back, and muttered about the sheer waste of her neighbors. Esmeralda was one of the few people who lived in that neighborhood simply because it was a convenience - most of her clients were the models and actors who sold the fashion by wearing it. Her husband, a man named Phoebus, worked with the government (Kairi suspected, considering how she had met him, oh, maybe two-and-a-half times, that his job had something to do with aliens).

Steiner pulled up into a cul-de-sac, where a cluster of white-washed apartments surrounded by rosebushes sat behind a wrought iron gate. Calling out through the intercom near the gates, Steiner drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before a deep female voice replied with a dry, "You're late" before the gates swung open and Steiner drove through.

Esmeralda lived in the third house down - and Kairi always knew that it was her house due to the fact that her door was painted with a mural, much to the disgust of her neighbors, and her front yard was littered with abstract glass sculptures - Esmeralda's one material weakness. "Thank you, Steiner. I'll see you later."

"You already have a ride to the charity gala?" Steiner asked, giving her a protective look. Kairi giggled and hopped from the car.

"No, I was going to hitchhike," Kairi replied, and slamming the door, almost laughing aloud at the sputtering, distressed look the man shot her. Not waiting for him to snap out of his stupor, Kairi trotted up the short walkway and rang the front door.

A few moments afterwards, the door swung open, and a fluffy, excited thing came flying at Kairi who blinked as she suddenly got a lapful of Airedale Terrier puppy…getting fur all over her wide-leg trousers. Her wide-leg _black _trousers.

"Esmeralda!"

"Djali!" A beautiful dark-skinned woman whistled sharply, and the terrier came galloping back into the house. Esmeralda opened the door even more, and frowned at Kairi. "You're late, Kairi."

"It was a Bogie night."

Esmeralda raised an eyebrow, ushering Kairi in. "I swear, between you and your 80s teen movies and Sora's foreign language movies and Riku's film noir…why haven't your brains rotted yet?" Kairi followed the tall stylist back through the house towards the back rooms that doubled as a salon. Sometimes the dark-haired bohemian would venture to meet her clients in a hotel room at the Four Seasons, but since the Core and the Hierarchy wouldn't be moving to the ritzy hotel until early in the upcoming week, Esmeralda had decided it would be much more convenient for both of them to convene at her house.

Of course, since the house was only open to close friends and Esmeralda's tastes were recognizably immaculate, she was one of the most highly-sought after stylists in the modeling district. Kairi still wasn't sure how she got drawn into Esmeralda's inner circle - she suspected Tifa, and therefore Cloud and Zack, had something to do with it.

"So, how are the boys?"

"They're good," Kairi said as she followed Esmeralda into the make-shift salon, where the assistants hairstylist and the make-up artist were waiting. "Sora got us stuck in London…"

"I heard about that," Esmeralda said wryly as she pinned back her long, dark curls. "I thought Leon forbade any of you ever to let him book plane tickets after that incident in Toronto." Kairi only blushed a bit at that - after having been chewed out by Cloud and Leon and then somewhat by Laguna, the point had been made and it had been made crystal clear: Sora was not allowed near any travel websites, travel agencies, and would never ever ever book a flight anywhere especially not one of the country.

Kairi peered at the dress that was wrapped in plastic, hanging alone in one of the closets. "Is that the dress Laguna sent over? I like the design - Beatrice outdid herself."

"Hm-hmm," Esmeralda murmured distractedly, busying herself with making sure all of her tools were there. "I said you should have worn something champagne-colored, but you know Laguna and Beatrice together are more stubborn than a brick wall."

"I _liked _this color!" Kairi proclaimed, stepping over to the dress and observing it with a critical eye. The color was a deep Prussian blue, the maxi dress strapless with a flowy skirt and translucent hemline. "Sora said it made my eyes look purple…" Esmeralda only laughed at this, a rich, hearty sound before gesturing for Kairi to take a seat near the window.

"Come on," the teal-eyed stylist teased. "We have a lot of work ahead of us, and we only have a few hours to make you look presentable. And that itself is a daunting task."

Kairi blew a raspberry at her.

oOo

Aerith enjoyed her job.

Well, most of the time.

She was currently sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Prince de Galles, sipping a cup of tea after having refused numerous offers for coffee. Her green eyes flickered every so often to the French newspaper that sat in front of her, and though her eyes skimmed the headlines, an observer would probably have noted that she wasn't really reading the articles at all.

Having found a nice warm patch of sun and knowing that she would only be able to enjoy it for a few more moments as morning marched on relentlessly, Aerith had no desire to move from her spot - after all, she had told the other woman to meet her in the lobby. Technically, there were supposed to have gone to lunch, but Aerith, the jet lag finally catching up with her, decided to make do with a cup of tea and maybe a decent croissant. Heaven knows she didn't want to walk to Laduré e and deal with the crowds on a Friday morning.

"_Bonjour_, Aerith," a teasing, feminine voice called from over her shoulder. The petite young woman turned, and a smile lit up across her face.

"Tifa - I'm glad you were able to make it, especially so close to the charity event," Aerith said, standing up and hugging the other brunette. Tifa laughed and then moved to sit down on the chair across from Aerith, tucking her clutch into the ample space beside her.

"Even as it is, I'm not going to be able to stay for long," remarked the brown-eyed model, her eyes glowing a deep hazel in the sunlight. "Ansem wants me to meet this new stylist a half-hour earlier than scheduled. I think it's really lousy timing on his part, but…with the whole thing with Lulu and V.Zero…" Tifa stopped in the middle of her sentence, and laughed slightly. "Sorry - I keep forgetting."

"That's alright," Aerith said brightly, before sipping her tea again. "It's really their modeling war, after all - Leon and Ansem's. I wish they would both just get along - at least their models aren't getting into cat fights."

Tifa laughed. "Just among each other."

"Demyx and Xigbar again?"

"Again," Tifa said with an exaggerated sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "And I still haven't met Roxas yet - Naminé says he's nice, if a bit quiet. He's going to be at the charity event tonight, right?" At Aerith's nod, Tifa looked thoughtful. "Maybe this is just me playing matchmaker, but I really do hope they hit it off okay. Naminé deserves someone nice…I mean, even Marluxia and Larxene can find love and we know that they're both _hopeless_…" Aerith cleared her throat slightly, and the two brunettes shared looks before falling into laughter.

As they managed to bring themselves under control, Aerith put her cup of tea down on the small table next to her, setting it on the edge of the newspaper. "Tifa, you know that Cloud's here too."

Tifa's eyes widened - but not in surprise. A small, sad smile came across her face. "Yeah…yeah, I know."

"Zack says you should at least try to talk to him, especially after that whole thing last year in New York."

Tifa looked very tempted to bury her face in her hands. "There's that New York thing again."

"You know how Cloud can be…"

"I grew up with him - I know very well how stubborn he can be." Tifa paused and sucked in a breath. "_He's _not coming, is he?" Aerith shook her head, her long brown ponytail swishing across her back.

"I tried calling Leon, but I couldn't get through - he's dealing with all those last minute things with Lulu - but I would suspect that he might show up." Aerith sighed, glancing down at her lap. "If things aren't already complicated enough - I would hope he would just stay in Milan."

Tifa glanced out the window, her eyes suddenly looking impossibly sad. "Unlikely - and it's going to be one big mess again. But…I'll try to talk to him before the night is over at least. I mean, I can't possibly make things worse between us than they already are, right?"

"Tifa…"

"Oh, don't worry about it, Aerith." Tifa rose to her feet, a small grin appearing on her face. "Cloud knows I can be as stubborn as hell - even worse than Leon if I put my mind to it - and I'm not letting him get away without talking to me." She snatched up her clutch, taking a look at her watch as she did so. "You'll be there tonight, right?" Aerith nodded.

"I'm still keeping an eye on Roxas, to make sure he knows the ropes."

"Don't worry. We'll all be keeping an eye on him."

Before Tifa could turn to leave, Aerith gently touched her wrist. "I almost forgot to ask…how's Demyx? Is the…situation any better?"

Tifa chuckled. "As good as it's going to get for awhile. They'll figure it out soon - or, at least, hopefully _he _will." She gave a small little wave of her hand before bounding towards the doors, almost rolling her eyes when one of the bellboy's eyes strayed on her figure for too long and he ran right into the revolving glass door with a thud.

Aerith smiled softly before pulling out her cellphone and dialing a familiar number.

The phone on the other end rang once…twice…

"Hey, what's up?"

"Not much, really. But I _do _have a question for you…"

oOo

"You're not wearing _that _to the gala, are you?"

Larxene didn't even pause in her texting, simply passing by her mother who was frowning at her outfit - tailored, curve-hugging tan suit with a large black belt and matching fedora. Her mother pursed her lips in annoyance before walking up to her daughter, and laying a perfectly manicured finger on the edge of the younger blonde's Helio, lowering it. Larxene raised an eyebrow before curtly saying, "What?"

Her mother scowled. "This outfit - it's not very appropriate."

"It's not the Academy Awards, Mother. I don't think I'll be ticketed by the Fashion Police." Larxene was almost successful in keeping the venom out of her voice as she turned away from her mother and headed towards the foyer, her heels clicking on the marble floors as she did so. One or two of the maids scampered out of her way as the leggy blonde headed towards the front door, not even glancing up from her phone. "Is Dad meeting us there?"

The older blonde sighed, pausing in a mirror to check any loose strands of hair in her pageboy cut. It was an unnecessary move - Scarlet, the former supermodel of legend, always looked immaculate. Her crimson-colored one-shoulder dress was sharply cut into the latest fashion with a flutter hem, and Larxene assumed that the jewelry she was wearing probably cost about as much as someone's annual income in other parts of America. No - it most definitely did.

Sighing irritably, Larxene grabbed her digital camera from the small table sitting near the back of the foyer and stuffed it into her purse - she couldn't take her bigger SLR with her, and that irritated her to no end (and she let Marluxia know how much she was pissed about that in an earlier argument…er, conversation).

Behind her, she could hear her mother muttering something about how her daughter should learn how to wear a dress every once in awhile. Larxene rolled her eyes before calling back over her shoulder, "I'll see you later, Mother." And without waiting for the former model to rejoinder, Larxene slipped out the door into the balmy Parisian night. The rain that had pelted the city on Wednesday night and Thursday morning left the entire city smelling like wet earth and the faint, crisp odor of spring.

Larxene's allergies threatened to annihilate her senses.

Quickly dialing a number into her phone, she stepped into her car (and no matter how much she traveled around Europe, still could not quite be comfortable driving around on the right side of the car) and turned on the engine.

After a few rings, someone picked up on the other line. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's good to hear your voice too, _darling_," Larxene muttered dryly.

"You're late - excuse me if I'm not thrilled about," replied Marluxia with a similar note of annoyance in his voice. "You were supposed to be here - "

"Ten minutes ago, I know," Larxene replied as she pulled out into the streets of the 7é me arrondissement, and immediately frowning at the drive that was ahead of her. "Listen, I'm probably not going to make it in time. Mother was being a hassle again, and I'm going to have to drive straight there." She could already imagine the hassle that was going to be - the charity event was well-known and everybody from the paparazzi to various movie stars and singers to different ranking models were going to be crowding the streets leading up to the Ritz.

"Your funeral," Marluxia remarked with a small laugh. "I suppose I'll see you there then."

Larxene snorted. "More or less." She narrowed her eyes a bit and then hurriedly sped through a yellow light, earning a blaring honk from the car next to her as she swerved into his lane. This was not going to be a pleasant drive - and her mother and father would never let her hear the end of it if she was late. And she definitely did not want to confront Laguna if she were - despite his cheerful nature and almost oppressing optimistic manner, being late to one of his events was a definite no-no if one valued one's self-preservation.

__

And that's where he's as bad as Leon,

Larxene thought darkly as she sped down the streets of the St. Germain quarter, knowing when and where to slow down in case she was pulled over by the police. It was one of the few tricks she had learned during her first few trips to Paris after she had acquired a car. Next to London and Los Angeles, Paris was the only city she personally drove around in, and she wasn't exactly fond of the idea of getting her car impounded because she was speeding.

Of course, in times like this, speeding was absolutely and completely necessary.

Around thirty minutes later - Larxene cursed the traffic around the Tuileries quarter especially the damn lost tourists - the tiny car pulled up two blocks away from the Ritz. Larxene was somewhat frankly amazed at the fact that she was able to get so close (flashing her pass at one of the guards standing at the barricades a few blocks back probably helped) - and stepped from her car as a young valet ran up to her, and offered to take care of her car for her. Larxene raised an eyebrow, and glanced behind him where a row of overeager young men stood, dressed flawlessly in white shirts and black dress pants.

Larxene smirked. "_Oui _- _mais si vous le détruisez, je vous tuerai_."(4)

The young man paled a few shades lighter than what was probably considered healthy. "_Ah_, _oui_, _mademoiselle_."

Leaving the frightened young man behind, Larxene paused to look at the photographers gathered around the entrance of the Ritz, snapping pictures of the more famous models, actors, and designers who arrived. Larxene, rolling her eyes at the sheer pointlessness of it all, easily drifted past the more eager of the photographers and headed towards the entrance. Some of the more observant photographers, though, noticed her and immediately excited their colleagues by screaming out her name.

"Larxene! Larxene!"

"Look this way!"

"Where's Marluxia!?"

"Smile this way for Celeb mag!"

"Larxene!"

The blonde ignored all of them, tempted to flip one of them the bird for asking about Marluxia…except last time she did that, the media had had a field day and she had received a good hour-long lecture from her mother and, surprisingly, her father. It had taken a good two weeks for the frenzy around that picture to die down - Larxene wasn't a model, despite being pretty much the poster girl for all leggy, gorgeous blondes the world over, but her status as seriously dating _the _top male model in the world and being the daughter of a former model and the editor-in-chief of _Elite_ often resulted in everything she did ending up in the tabloids and various fashion magazines.

To put it simply, Larxene was famous for being…a socialite.

The term had made the blonde physically ill for a good week when Xigbar had called her that.

Stepping into the Ritz, even as a few more photographers called out her name (and she suspected exactly what sort of rumors would be printed in the gossip section of various webpages the next day), she peered out from underneath the brim of her fedora and whistled low under her breath. It seemed that every year, the charity got more and more grandiose. Laguna always seemed to like the idea of getting more attention for his cause - raising money for underprivileged children in various countries - and the more people paid attention to the charity event, the bigger it became.

Of course, being the first event of Mode, rather than a fashion show, was saying a lot.

The charity event was taking place in the heart of the Ritz Paris, the Grand Jardin, which was definitely a step up from previous years. Larxene easily wove her way through the grand marble hallways, nodding curt greetings along the way from utterly and completely ingratiating people trying to befriend her to get into her parent's inner circle. It was better than to socially ignore them then cuss them out…a lesson she had also learned some weeks prior to flipping the paparazzi the bird.

Emerging into the huge courtyard, and ignoring an excited starlet's call of her name, she hummed in appreciation - the garden was decked out extravagantly, with glowing garden lights and a band playing at one end of the gardens. It was already mildly crowded, and the conversation was just beginning to become more than a low hum. Well-known photographers and lower-ranking models were already scattered amongst the gardens, talking to a handful of actors here or a few designers there.

"Why am I here again?" Larxene murmured as someone tapped her on the shoulder. If it was that annoying starlet again…Larxene turned around and looked up into intense deep blue eyes. "Oh…it's you."

"Don't sound so excited," Laguna laughed. "I was actually looking for your father. Have you seen him yet?"

"I haven't spoken to him at all today," replied the man-in-question's daughter with a snort. "He'll probably arrive fashionably late, as usual."

Laguna patted her on the shoulder. "That he will. Listen - the big speech and everything isn't until eight-thirty so until then, you think you can scare some people into donating a couple dollars to the fund?"

"I thought it was supposed to be done willingly."

"Yeah, but I know you have fun tormenting people."

Larxene smirked. "You know me too well."

Laguna grinned and then headed off to a cluster of Italian photographers who had clustered around a doe-eyed Dutch model who looked absolutely terrified of the attention she was getting. Larxene refrained from calling out a snide comment about Laguna being a knight in shining armor, and turned to cast her gaze onto a group of American designers who were acquaintances of her mother.

Putting on her most innocent of smiles, she approached them, thoughts of manipulation already in her mind.

It was around twenty minutes later and eleven additional donators added to Laguna's fund that someone who wasn't intimidated by the blonde approached her. "You know that there are easier ways for people to support Laguna's charity than for you to browbeat them to it."

Larxene crossed her arms, and glared into earth-brown eyes that twinkled with amusement. "This way is more fun."

"I bet," Tifa Lockhart replied. "How much did you manage to get out of them?"

"A grand total of twelve thousand, in U.S. dollars. Not bad, but I've done better."

Tifa laughed, throwing her dark head back. Her long brown locks were pinned up into a Grecian-style upsweep, offsetting the champagne-hued sheath dress she was wearing. Sitting in the hollow of her throat was a very simple braided sunburst charm that Larxene gathered would be the most in-demand item in fashion the next day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a photographer snapping a candid of them. Tifa followed her gaze, and a mischievous look appeared on her face. "Wonder what the captions for that one will be. Maybe we're sharing a great fashion moment. Or something silly like that."

"Screw that," Larxene waved her hand dismissively and glanced around the garden. "Have you seen Marluxia?"

"I think he got here around five minutes ago, if the number of cameras flashes were any indication…" Larxene noticed Tifa trail off, and followed the young woman's stare across the way and landed on familiar, distinctive blond spikes that only belonged to one person…

Not even bothering with a good-bye, knowing that she had already been forgotten, Larxene strolled off, in search of her date for the night.

She, of course, stopped along the way to terrorize a group of magazine editors.

oOo

Sora thought his face was stuck.

Rubbing his cheek wearily, he withdrew from the pose as the photographer thanked Kairi for the impromptu picture. He threw a look at Riku, who was looking towards the starry sky with a perfectly practiced look of annoyed nonchalance on his face. As the photographer hurried off - Sora thought maybe he worked for _Elite _or _Vogue _or…something - Kairi let out a sigh. "My face hurts."

"Your face hurts?" Sora asked groaning. "I swear, I'm sticking to smirking like Riku. That can't hurt as much as smiling for all the paparazzi."

"It's good for PR," argued Kairi while Riku replied, "We're not allowed to smile for shoots, so why should I smile for the tabloids?"

Sora made a face at both of them as they headed over towards the bar. Sora once again thanked whatever fashion deity there was that Mode took place in Paris rather than New York, and that they could drink alcohol without getting their names branded across various websites and gossip magazines. An unflattering picture could say a thousand rumored words. Cloud had warned them all about that the minute he had become their booking agent and not-quite-manager (Sora thought Cloud worried too much).

After getting stunned looks from the two usually-placid faced bartenders behind the bar, the trio managed to convince them, that yes, they were the supermodels he was thinking of, yes, there were old enough to drink in Paris, and no, they didn't survive on cigarettes, alcohol, and romaine lettuce. Kairi had wrinkled her nose at that last question and followed it by a brief, "Yuck."

"Should we go mingle?" Riku asked, peering out into the populated courtyard. "Leon would kill us if we don't."

"Hey, Zexion and Axel can do that. I've smiled enough for the evening," Kairi retorted, wincing as a bright light flashed over to her left. "Everything else is candid for the rest of this thing…"

Sora laughed. "What makes you think that Zexion of all people is going to willingly strike up a conversation with anyone?"

"If he's with Axel, he might not have a choice," Riku murmured into his drink.

Sora was about to retort when he caught a flash of blond across the gardens. At first, he thought that maybe it was just Cloud, except that the blond spikes were much shorter and more honey-colored than the V.Zero booking agent. A closer look revealed a face that actually seemed very similar to his own…and at that speculation, Sora's mind took three leaps and his jaw dropped a bit.

"Hey! Hey, Riku, Kairi!" He gestured frantically over to his left, careful not to spill his amaretto sour as he did so. "That kid from Wednesday! He's over there!"

Kairi's eyes widened as she peered around Sora's shoulder in an attempt to glance Sora's doppelganger. "Where?" Riku, who had never even seen the blond in question, frowned and stared over to where Sora was recklessly pointing.

"What's he doing here?" he asked. "He's not a model, is he?"

"I don't know - let's go meet him!"

"Meet who?" a voice asked from next to them, and three heads turned to find the other two members of the Core standing next to them. "You guys are actually enjoying this bit?"

"For the most part," Kairi replied. She then grinned, and leaned forward with a conspiring wink. "Are you guys having fun with the photographers?"

Zexion gave her a sharp look that probably said "hell, no" in bright, flashing letters in every language known to man. Kairi felt a little twinge of sympathy for him - the photographers may have been annoying for her, but they must have been sheer torment for the withdrawn young man, who had never wanted to be a model in the first place, let alone part of the elite five that made up the Core of V.Zero's models. Axel, on the other hand…

"I think they're pretty cool this time around," Axel said with a shrug and a smirk that wasn't _quite _evil. "No one is asking stupid questions, at least."

"For now," Zexion murmured, leaving against the bar and looking altogether bored with the event. No one in the group noticed the excited murmurs directed their way - it was rare, though not unusual considering their friendship, to see the Core all gathered together at one place.

"So…" drawled Axel, glancing in the direction Sora had been pointing. "Who are you trying to meet?"

"The guy from Ladurée who looks like me," Sora explained. "He might be a model - I've never seen him before or anything, though."

"Well, let's go."

"No, we can't just go over there."

"Why not?"

"Because!"

Axel rolled his eyes, and threw his arm around Sora's shoulders, and began dragging him over across the way towards where his twin was standing with a lithe blonde girl. "That's a lousy excuse, and you know it. Besides, I know you want to meet him, and I've never met him, so I want to meet him. Any kids who looks like you - although, if he acts like you, the world is doomed - is definitely interesting enough to meet."

Sora squawked in protest at the statement, but ended up getting dragged along to meet him.

A few weeks later, Sora would wince and then laugh at the events that eventually led up to the Vendetta. But at that moment in time, he realized that no one could have predicted the calm before the storm.

oOo

It should have been less awkward.

Tifa knew this the minute she said hello to the blond agent, who blinked in recognition and then murmured a polite greeting back. Yuffie, who had been standing at Cloud's side, grinned in knowing (_knowing what_, Tifa had thought) before slipping away, cheerfully saying something along the lines of "letting you two catch up" and then the dark-haired girl was gone, making a beeline for Leon.

And then came the awkward, oppressing silence.

Tifa smiled a bit, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. "How've you been? It's been almost a year, hasn't it?"

Cloud nodded. "It has. I've been fine." He paused. "It's good to see you again, Tifa."

Tifa wanted to bite her bottom lip, wishing that the conversation would flow more smoothly, like it had in the past. They had grown up together, even if they hadn't been close friends, and even before that whole incident in New York, they certainly had had better conversations than this limping, sore excuse for one. "How's Leon? Is business good?"

"Leon is fine - after things got straightened out between him and the Core, at least," Cloud replied, wiping a stray strand of blond hair from his eyes, a look that Tifa was very familiar with, a gesture that was every bit as integral to Cloud as was his quiet arrogance and nobility.

Damn it.

Tifa sighed and then leaned forward, watching with a bit of relief as Cloud's eyes widened slightly. "So, are you in Paris for the full two weeks?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

Cloud laughed slightly at the answer and then shook his head. "I'm in Milan for a few days - there are a few shows down there that the Core got contracted to do."

Tifa winced - Milan. Double damn.

"Are you sure you want to go to Milan?"

Cloud gave her a look. It was always that look - that same blue-hued gaze that was filled with such confidence and assured knowledge that Tifa didn't quite know what to say after that. She knew that whatever happened in Milan wasn't good - after all, _he _was going to be there - but whenever Cloud gave her that look, she always wondered why she worried in the first place.

Triple damn.

"How are the others?"

She almost missed the question, and her lips curved upwards into a smile. "They're fine. Getting into trouble as usual, but other than that…oh!" Her eyes widened slightly. "Ansem imported a new model into the Hierarchy - strange, considering only V.Zero usually does that."

"A new model?"

"Hm-hmm…his name is Roxas. He came with Naminé tonight. I should introduce you two." She giggled. "He actually looks like he could be your younger brother."

She would have continued, but at that moment, a slim, pretty redhead approached the duo, and smiled politely as an interruption. "Excuse me, Miss Lockhart. But I need to speak with Cloud for a few moments." Tifa blinked, unsure of who this mysterious woman was, but Cloud gave her an apologetic smile before the woman quietly led them away, gesturing animatedly with her hands and speaking in hushed tones.

Inwardly, Tifa bristled with annoyance.

Sometimes, there just weren't enough curse words in the English or French languages…

oOo

Naminé may have had polite, pointless conversation down to an art, but Roxas was downright awful at it.

Perfectly blunt and not really caring about dodging around people's feelings towards a subject (usually about whether or not kelly-green bubble skirts were a good addition to the spring collection of _Madame _magazine or if the reverse heeled boots were practical for some designer's collection). Roxas was sure he had insulted at least five people already, pissed off three others, got himself written off the Christmas card list of a few others, but surprisingly…a lot of people took his blunt, nonchalant attitude towards fashion refreshing. One editor-in-chief for a high-fashion magazine noted in amusement, "Well, I have never had a model tell me that our entire spring collection was imprudent…though I do admit, I found the navy leather haute couture a bit excessive this year, especially in regards to the animal print…"

Roxas had stared blankly at him. "…the hell?" he had murmured once the man had been summoned away, and Naminé had burst into giggles.

"Don't worry - if you stay on his good side, that's a good sign. You can make people mad all the way until Sunday, but if you stay in the good graces of the people who matter, then it's really no consequence."

Roxas didn't even have the heart to ask who the people who mattered were.

Which was why when they were approached by a group of five startlingly beautiful and unsettlingly familiar people, Roxas frowned darkly and narrowed his eyes and absolutely refused to introduce himself first.

Naminé herself seemed a bit surprised by the sudden company. "Oh, my…to what do we owe the surprise?"

"Nice to see you too, Naminé ," the silver-haired young man said, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "I saw you in a magazine spread for that new fragrance the other day - congratulations."

The blonde girl blushed. "It's nothing really. They just didn't want…oh, what's her name…Kate somebody doing it…" Then she shook her head. "But isn't this a nice little picture? The press would have a field day." Roxas glanced off just to the left, where a female photographer was watching them with too keen an eye for his tastes, and he cleared his throat pointedly, hoping to high-tail it out the way before they were ambushed.

"You remember us, right?" the brown-haired young man suddenly ventured forth, and his bright smile was so genuine and heartfelt that Roxas blinked. "From Laduré e a few days ago - um, the bathroom? I was leaving, you were…"

"I remember," Roxas mused quietly and leveled a look at Zexion. "You spilled a drink all over Naminé 's sweater."

Silence.

Behind the group, the party continued.

Sora stopped short, Kairi bit her bottom lip and gave Sora a Look, and Riku gave Axel a look that obviously said "what the hell?" Axel, though, had cocked his head to the side, as if he were sizing the shorter young man up, and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that Riku definitely did not like. He knew that look, had seen it before all sorts of disasters including the incident in Rome a few months back with the stupid Vespas, or that party after the Golden Globes where almost all the fashion and gossip magazines had shown that picture of Axel snatching an award out of one of the winner's hands…

So it was no surprise that Axel, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his black slacks, leaned over casually and gently teased, "Careful there, blondie. You're not tall enough to act like that yet."

Kairi bit back a choked giggle, Sora blinked, and Riku snorted in vague amusement. Zexion only rolled his eyes as Roxas' eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I'm just saying your attitude's lousy - must be from your lack of growth or puberty." He smirked. "Got it memorized?"

At first, it seemed that Roxas was completely at a loss for words for the insult, but almost as soon as the words sunk in, his face melted into one of cool displeasure and he replied in a sotto voice, "I don't know what makes you think you're smart, but it's not working."

Axel almost gave a start of surprise - usually, anyone with that type of nerve would get flustered or angry or something. This unruffled annoyance was something new…and he raised an eyebrow. "Listen, kid. Why don't you go along and play with people your own age."

Behind him, he heard Riku mutter something along the lines of "oh, this is great" but he ignored him. Roxas scowled darkly at him. "Are you this irritating by nature, or did you go to a school to learn this?"

"Very clever, Blondie."

"Screw you, bastard."

"When, where, and how hard?"

By this time, Naminé looked like she was desperately trying not to laugh or like she was about to have a heart attack. One hand was on Roxas' forearm, trying to drag him away, although the last comment rendered Roxas completely mute and he just stared at the redhead, not exactly comprehending what he had just heard.

Behind Axel, Riku groaned, grabbed his friend's wrist and began to pull him away, muttering darkly the entire time. Kairi had begun to giggle underneath her breath, quickly murmuring a good-bye to Naminé before following her two friends. Sora looked tempted to say more but a quick glance at Zexion who was shaking his head quieted him, and he too scampered away.

Naminé waited until the Core was out of earshot and then she glanced worriedly at Roxas. "Um…that's V.Zero's Core…"

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "V.Zero…as in the modeling agency?"

"Yes. They're the top five models from there."

Naminé could have _sworn _she heard the other youth gritting his teeth. "Really?" After a moment, Roxas took a deep breath and his entire body seemed to deflate. "Damn it - this sucks."

"Well, I think Sora likes you, at least."

"Sora?"

"Your twin."

"Well…" Roxas narrowed his eyes in the direction the five other young people had ventured off in. "He's fine. But I don't like the redhead. I don't like him _at all_."

oOo

Yuffie knew Cloud was in a bad mood.

She had been watching the exchange between him and Tifa from a good few yards away, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with Leon and the art director of some British magazine. Her violet eyes had narrowed during the various lulls in the conversation, and knew that it was anything but good. She only watched in something akin to exasperation as Giselle, an assistant to the editor-in-chief of _Elite_, approached Cloud and easily pulled him away from the conversation.

Yuffie watched as Tifa's eyes followed the handsome blonde with a look that could only be described as longing and wistful.

Oh, that was it.

Yuffie bounced away from her conversation and ran after Cloud, calling his name and making sure that Tifa hadn't known she was eavesdropping. "Cloud! Cloud! Cloud Strife, you stop ignoring me!"

The blond paused in the middle of his conversation with Giselle, who only smiled politely and stepped away, probably looking for her elusive boss. "Yuffie? What is it?"

"Okay, what was that?" Yuffie gestured over to the retreating back of Tifa. "You're just going to let her go? That was the saddest conversation I have ever heard in my entire life, and I spend my free time with Leon, which says a lot! So start explaining, Cloud!"

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Maybe."

"In other words, yes." Cloud sighed, and then rubbed his temple wearily. "Yuffie, you know the situation is…complicated between me and Tifa. It's best not to push anything."

"If that's not _the _lamest guy excuse ever…"

"Yuffie…"

"I'm serious, Cloud!" the dark-haired girl exploded excitedly, crossing her arms. "Okay, so the New York thing was bad, and then the whole thing with Aerith and Sephiroth and Zack, but geez…it's been a year." Yuffie realized that mentioning Sephiroth was probably a bad thing, and her suspicions were confirmed when Cloud paled a few shades lighter than normal. _Well_, she thought, _it had to be said if he's going to be all pouty-moody over it…sheesh._

Cloud sighed, narrowing his eyes at Yuffie. "I'll figure it out later. Not tonight." And without expounding on that simple statement, he turned on his heel and walked away into the crowd of celebrities of the fashion and film world.

__

Argh! Stupid guys and their stupid

…Yuffie's thoughts trailed off as she glanced around the Ritz garden. Glancing at the watch on her left hand, and realizing that there were only a few more minutes before Laguna began his big thank-you speech, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of Tifa somewhere, and once again cursed her short stature in a sea of ridiculously tall, leggy people who made her look like a stump.

Well, the one thing about being short and nimble was that she could easily sneak in-between broad shoulders and curvy hips and slender legs once she finally caught sight of who she was looking for. Most people only saw a mop of black hair and the edges of a black babydoll dress as Yuffie scooted past, muttering, "Excuse me…coming through…move it, you Behemoth…!"

Unknowingly, in her haste, she accidentally bumped into Axel who let out a surprised "Hey, Yuffie!" and Yuffie called back, "Sorry!" before disappearing into the shifting crowd. Axel rolled his eyes, and then glanced down at Kairi, who was now wearing a tiny bit of Axel's gin-and-tonic. The girl looked mildly distressed as she glanced down at the few wet spots on her deep blue gown. "Oh, no…"

Axel winced. "Sorry, Kairi."

She smiled up at him. "Ah, don't worry. It's not like it'll stain. But still…" She placed her own drink on a nearby table. "I'm going to head to the bathroom to clean up a bit. Watch my drink for me?"

"Sure. Don't get lost."

"Sure. Don't get into any more fights."

Axel opened his mouth to protest, but Kairi was already gone. Zexion, the only other member of the Core standing nearby (Riku and Sora had wandered off to find Leon), gave him a pointed look. "She's right. That little argument earlier was entirely unnecessary."

"He started it."

"He had been talking to me, if I recall. Not to you." Zexion gestured towards where Roxas and Naminé had been standing. "I would have apologized, if you had given me the option. Now he dislikes you as well."

Axel shrugged, swirling the contents of his cup. "Yeah, well. Chances are we're not exactly going to be interacting a lot in the next few weeks. What do I care if a random blond model doesn't like me? He won't be the first."

Zexion sighed, and almost said that that wasn't the point.

"Want another drink?"

Zexion sighed.

oOo

Roxas had separated from Naminé a few minutes after the little meet-up with the Core. She had explained who they were - names that were easy to remember - though it had done little to quell his uneasiness. Already, not even a few days into this much faster paced world of crazy modeling and he had pissed-off one of the higher-tiered models? Roxas was beginning to very much hate this whole Mode thing, and had begged off to find Aerith, who he hadn't seen since they arrived nearly an hour earlier.

Arriving at the Ritz had been an experience in itself - with enough flashing cameras to probably render him blind for the rest of his eyes, and the paparazzi demanding to know if he was Naminé's new boyfriend and to smile this way for the camera and blah blah blah.

Roxas stepped over to the bar, very tempted to stay there for the rest of the night…except that some silly reporter might see him and expound the story into some sort of alcoholics anonymous piece. He frowned at the thought - was he going to have to second guess everything he did from now on? The thought was mildly stomach-churning, and he quickly ordered a screwdriver.

"So…you're the new model Ansem ordered?"

Roxas blinked, and turned to find himself staring into faintly amused blue eyes. The other blond seemed around ten years his senior, with slicked back blonde hair and an arrogantly handsome face that bespoke of turn-of-the-century confidence and greatness. He was wearing an all white suit, save for his black dress shirt, and seemed strangely amused by Roxas' situation.

Roxas didn't recognize the man, was surprised that he wasn't speaking French, and didn't say anything less he end up in an even bigger mess than he had already found himself in. "That would be me." He didn't say anything else, and the man gave him an inquisitive stare.

"I wondered about his decision, but it seemed to be soundly founded. I look forward to working with you in the future."

"Same here…" Roxas trailed off. The man smiled, nodded his head, and walked off. Roxas watched him go, now completely and utterly confused. Was it now that by being a model complete and total strangers in various expensive outfits randomly approach him and talk about stuff that he didn't know? Well…the good thing was…at least they weren't speaking French. Roxas wasn't even in the mood to even try to decipher another language.

Sighing belatedly, he ran his hand through his hair and looked out over the crowd of wealthy and influential people, still searching for Aerith. His eyes caught a glimpse of blue dress over by the melting ice sculpture (he and Naminé had passed it earlier and he had stared at it for a good two minutes before realizing that while an ice sculpture was a beautiful thing, practical it was not) and hesitated for a brief few seconds.

Finally deciding that he'd rather have rumors fly that he was dating another Hierarchy member than keep being randomly approached by strangers, he snatched his drink off the counter and began to make his way towards the girl wearing the blue dress. "Naminé !"

Dimly wondering why the girl didn't turn around, Roxas was completely taken aback when someone shouted his name from behind him. "Hey, Roxas!"

Roxas paused for a few seconds, and spun around to see the other blond male in the Hierarchy (Demyx, Roxas quickly reminded himself) waving at him from a cluster of other models. Whether or not they were in Enix, Roxas couldn't tell and it would be at least a month before he would be able to decipher the two types of models Enix and V.Zero drew respectively.

This was not the night.

"Demyx?"

Demyx parted ways from his group and began to head over, easily dodging a waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses in his hand, who stumbled just slightly and spun around to maintain his precarious balance of the delicate glasses.

Roxas turned slightly to see if Naminé was still in view, but found the girl nowhere in sight. But hadn't she just been heading towards the bathrooms…? Confused, he turned a bit more to crane his neck around the passing shoulders…damn it, even for a male model, he was still uncomfortably short…

Looking back on it a few weeks later, they would still laugh (Axel more than anyone) how Fate and Gravity must have been dates for that night because right when things looked as if they couldn't get any worse…

Demyx watched as Roxas spun around, as if looking for someone and was about to call his name again, when a hand landed on his shoulder and he spun around to face Larxene, who was wearing a decidedly annoyed look. "Hey, Larxene…"

The blonde girl didn't even have time to explain the irritable look on her face as she peered past Demyx for that one fateful second, and frowned. "Hey, isn't that Yuffie?"

The two turned and saw that indeed, it was Yuffie, who was scrambling towards a dark-haired model in a sheath dress…Tifa. Yuffie caught up with her by the shoulder, but Tifa startled, and spun around quickly enough to nearly knock into the poor waiter carrying the champagne-glasses again.

The waiter stumbled backwards away from the near-collision and fell onto Roxas, who had turned back towards Demyx. The blond's eyes widened at the sudden nearness of a plate full of alcohol and quickly hopped backwards…

…right into Axel and Zexion's path.

The two had been heading straight towards the bar again, and Axel hadn't even been paying attention to his surroundings. Which was why when he found himself with an armful of unbalanced blond, he blinked and remembering that this was the blond that did not like him, pushing the blond away from him quickly slid out the way…and right into the hassled waiter who just couldn't maintain his careful balance anymore.

The tray upended and glasses of champagne went flying.

The shattering of glasses alerted the attention of nearly everyone in that corner of gardens, and dozens of pairs of eyes turned and saw a much bereaved waiter attempting to clean up the shards of glass, a decidedly soaked Roxas, a much less soaked Axel…and possibly the most heated glaring contest known to man.

Larxene and Demyx gaped, Yuffie and Tifa stared in unblinking astonishment, and over it all, Laguna called over the microphone.

"Is this a bad time to start?"

oOo

****

Author's Note

(26 Apr 08): Twenty pages? What in Pluto's name…?

But yes - it's been a good six months without an update so I think I kind of owed it to you guys. And I'm so sorry for the long hiatus between chapters. It was never my intention, but I think I'm back on track. I've focused myself on the stories that I have so far, and only plan on introducing two more for the summer (hopefully, two of my other stories will be done and out of the way, so I won't be completely crowded with ideas).

Um…yeah. Thanks for your patience and your reviews, and the next _tête-à-tête _should be updated within a few days. And no, it won't take another six months for the fourth chapter to be updated. I do plan on finishing this story even if it kills me (silly epic stories…)

Oh, by the way, I've added a "soundtrack" for this story. The song for the first chapter is "Come Fly With Me" by Michael Bublé and the song for the second chapter is "Fly" by Sugar Ray.

oOo

1 - The Arc de Trompe - Paris' _other _famous landmark, the Arc stands right in the middle L'Etoile, and is a famous architectural piece from the Napoleon era.

2 - The conversation is basically the driver asking where Namine and Roxas are from. Namine responds that they're in passing through Paris on business, something that the driver is obviously surprised to hear, considering their ages.

3 - Bogie is a nickname for Humphrey Bogart.

4 - Larxene threatens to kill the poor valet if he wrecks her car. Yes, Larxene can still be threatening in French.


	7. Tête à tête: Quatre

**Please Excuse My French**

By Samurai-Nashie

**Disclaimer**: In some spectacular alternate universe, I own _Kingdom Hearts_. In that universe, I am also the president of Shangri-La, Willy Wonka actually did give me a lifetime supply of chocolate, and Re:CoM got translated into English. Obviously, we don't live in this alternate universe…

oOo

_Tête-à-tête: Quatre_

oOo

Who would have thought that two champagne-drenched tuxes could have spelled disaster and mayhem for the next two weeks of our lives?

Okay, so really and honestly, I had thought it wasn't a big deal at first. Obviously I didn't know how bad Axel could hold a grudge. You would think knowing him for a good four years would give me better insight into his character - but Roxas somehow managed at first to get under his skin like no else was able to before. Not even Riku - and the arguments those two used to have were outrageous before Sora told them just to "shut up already or I'm never either of you use my Vespa again."

Happily, Axel adored that Vespa…and there's actually an interesting story about what he and I did while running loose in Munich with Sora's Vespa one weekend…but I'm not telling. And I know you're going to be reading this, Sora - and no, I will not tell you in private either, silly bum.

So…Axel and Roxas. Ugh. They hated each other. Bring out the bazookas and the random stiletto-stabbing (seriously, though - the catfight on the catwalk during that fashion show? _So _not appreciated).

I, of course, remained benevolent for…most of the feud. But after a bit, it seemed like the boys were having too much fun, so I just _had _to join in. Then…everything happened between us, and there was that whole argument and not-speaking-to-each thing that happened, and…wow. I'm surprised that most of us escaped relatively unscathed from the whole Vendetta (and hey, we got on the covers of _Vogue_, _People_, _Elite _and _Vanity Fair _because of it, so I guess it wasn't too bad a deal).

And the one broken arm wasn't _entirely _our fault.

So, anyway…

The rest of the night was spent attempting to keep Roxas and Axel as far apart as humanly possible - which actually didn't turn out to be that much of a hassle. Roxas left soon after, and Axel, having been the more fortunate victim, grumbled darkly for the rest of the evening. He turned out to be a real party pooper and the rest of us never did find out exactly why he was so pissed, other than the obvious (we're still waiting for that story, Axel).

I was surprised that it took so long for Zack to put his two cents in - granted, he was off in Toronto finishing up some indie film that the critics would probably love _again_, but still! The Four Pack clique (a name that, I think, _Us Weekly…_or was it _The New York Times_…whatever…supposedly cleverly bestowed onto Zack, Axel, Cloud and Leon back when the four of them used to hang out on a weekend-ly basis at various parties, film premieres, dinners, and bar mitzvahs) were supposed to stick together.

Of course, a few months before Zack decided he wanted to be a "serious" actor (which allowed Zexion to take his place in the Core), Leon got promoted to manager of V.Zero, and he and Cloud suddenly found themselves, pretty much, Zack and Axel's bosses. Bye-bye, camaraderie, hello, daily migraines.

I told them it was going to be a nightmare.

But, yeah…

So, Mode wasn't off to a good start. I asked Sora and Riku about it later - they thought it was just silly, and that it would eventually blow over. I mean, Axel never held a grudge, and we didn't know enough about Roxas at the time but we thought he would have seen that it was nothing but a rather unfortunate and inconvenient accident…but oh boy, were we _wrong_.

I mean, honestly - I have been with the Core for a good two years and I have never been at the center of so much controversy. I'm surprised that we weren't banned from Mode for the rest of our lives, but I guess all the fashion magazines and the gossip blogs loved keeping track of our antics…we all went from being "hey, weren't they on the cover of Elite last month" models to "oh-my-god can I have your autograph and you're shorter in real life" models.

(I still suspect that Rufus had something to do with it. I've discussed my theories with Riku and Sora and they agree. We're so onto him.)

Yuffie ran damage control afterwards, but, in the age of viral media, the story had already found its way onto some message board, complete with a shabby video taken on someone's phone. We all got in trouble for it, and I never got the reason for _that _from Leon. Axel, I could understand. Yuffie, I could understand. But what did the rest of us have anything to do with what went down at his dad's charity event? In fact, that probably only made the Vendetta worse, because if we had never gone out for those interviews, Xigbar never would have pranked Zexion, and he never would have met…

Well…I guess it's all in the past.

Thank you, guys. This is where I'll roll my eyes, and tell you that I had an absolute _blast _at Mode this year. You know, between all the relentless paparazzi and the shoddy rumors and that stupid banana split and YSL incident at the Four Seasons…

Oh, well. This is life in the fast lane after all.

I just wish it hadn't felt like such an episode of _Gossip Girl_.

oOo

**Author's Note **(10 May 08): And the funny thing is, _Gossip Girl _is one of the muses for this story, next to _Ugly Betty _and _The Devil Wears Prada_.

I think I mentioned this before, in reply to some of your reviews, but I'll just say it again: the speakers of the _tête-à-têtes_ differ with each chapter, and they will never be outright named. There are clues though, in things that they say, that should give you a hint as to who the speaker is.

Anyway, I'm off to work on **This is Not Titanic **and **For the B-Boys and Blueberry Pancakes**, two more works that you guys might like, if you like the hijinks of this story so far. And yes, I'm going straight to hell for shameless, _shameless _plugging.

Reviews and digital Chanel are _bien-aimé_!

- Nashie


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